


Secondhand Sneakers

by IbelieveinMarkNutt



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: (David forcing his love on Max), Alternate Universe - No Camp, Child Abuse, David & Gwen are best friends, Domestic Violence, Drug Use, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Rape of OC, Non-shipping, Slice of Life, Underage Smoking, Urban AU, dadvid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-05-09 17:09:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14720210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IbelieveinMarkNutt/pseuds/IbelieveinMarkNutt
Summary: Trying to get home from work in the middle of a storm, David comes across a bruised-up kid sat alone on some swings.With nothing but a flimsy t-shirt on his back, David feels a responsibility to make sure he's okay.It's a feeling, David finds out, the kid will do anything to relieve him of.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, as always, to my sweet and savagely honest beta [rvlakia](http://rvlakia.tumblr.com/) who always makes my work 200% better.
> 
> For [Zanmu](https://zanmu-ai.tumblr.com/) <3 (Check them out, they're a talented artist)
> 
> Did you know someone took the time to draw some great fanart inspired by this story? It's [AMAZING.](https://imgur.com/a/QCAGvwJ)

“Oh, golly,” muttered David at the sight outside the window. The rain sure had gotten worse during the drive from Campbell’s Café, the downtown bus groaning away as water smashed against the pavement outside. Unlike most, rain didn’t faze him, his trusty backpack at his feet, filled with gear required for a whole array of possibilities. 

The bus swung familiarly onto Chorus Street and David pinged the grubby STOP button with his thumb. He stood up in preparation, holding onto the rails and making his way towards the exit. It wasn’t too crowded and David had managed to snag a seat for once. He had had to take the route an hour later than usual, Mr Campbell having requested (told) David stay behind a little longer to sort out some new coffee deliveries.

The bus rolled to a stop and when Q opened the doors a loud _whoosh_ of air rushed inside, tousling David’s hair and sending a shiver through him.

It was stormy, a distant crackle of thunder reminding the city that it wasn’t going anywhere soon. At least being soaked through gave David the excuse of a long bubble bath and some hot tea when he got home. He should make a soup with the mushrooms he’d collected during lunch break, too.

They were fortunate enough to have a little woodland behind the café. A man-made clearing had been constructed in the middle for picnics and gatherings, and the trees were bimonthly trimmed to keep them neat, but it was the best nature David had access to in the city and he was going to take full advantage of it. That afternoon, David had discovered big swells of chanterelles at the back of the forest; delighted, he had rushed back to the café for a plastic bag to collect them.

Upon return, Gwen had tried to make him throw them out. She was sure he’d poison himself when she’d seen their yellow colour and despite David’s attempts to convince her they were only chanterelles, one of the safest mushrooms a person could possibly forage, she wasn’t having any of it. David had ended up hiding them in his locker to save them from the garbage can.

He wasn’t worried about poisoning himself in the slightest - one tended to be confident about these things after spending nearly every summer of your childhood and adolescence out in the Canadian wilderness with your Dad.

“Ya getting off or what, David?”

David hummed. He looked to Quarter with content, questioning eyes.

Quarter, who was the 408’s usual weekday afternoon driver, stared back, eyes bloodshot and unimpressed.

David then realised he was holding up the bus. “Oh. Oh! Sorry, Q,” he laughed. “In a world of my own just then.”

Q shook his head.

David hopped off, looking over his shoulder to give Quarter a bright smile. “Thanks for the ride! See you tomorrow!”

Before he could finish his sentence, the doors were already closed. David continued to smile anyway, understanding that being a bus driver meant keeping to a schedule, even if it involved not having time to return pleasantries. Through the water-stained window he watched Quarter wipe his prosthetic hand under his nose, disturbing his bushy moustache before he set off again.

He spoke again, to himself this time. “Wowie, it sure is coming down.” David hurried towards the shelter of the bus stop, swinging his rucksack off his shoulder and onto the bench so he could rummage inside. He found what he was looking for after a moment - his retractable umbrella - rezipping his backpack.

David pushed open the umbrella, taking a moment to admire its pine tree design before stepping out and the turquoise colour of it darkened against the patter of the rain. He set off down the street, shifting around a puddle that had gathered where some of the concrete had dipped.

At least the frost was gone, spring in full swing, although the wind meant there was a chill in the air that wasn’t particularly pleasant. The walk was familiar to David so the lack of visibility from the rainfall didn’t matter, the man humming to himself a popular song that had been played on the café’s radio on-and-off throughout the day.

(Gwen had stated that if the radio DJ played it one more time she was going to kill herself, but David thought it was catchy and cheerful enough.)

David began to sing once he determined he was enough out of earshot to not be heard, a brisk swing in his step, wanting to get home as quickly as possible. He avoided a few more potholes that were filling with rain, watching the side of the road to his left rush with water which was being guzzled up by the sporadic drain. The streets were emptier than usual. Most had hurried inside buildings or under shelters to wait for the downpour to pass.

Walking past the laundrette and Goodwill, David sped over the crossing (already green) glanced through the windows of the local Denny’s (filled with people) and gripped his umbrella tighter as a gust of nasty wind whipped around him. He took a left at Luna’s Daycare, singing through the pang of hurt the sight elicited, relief replacing it as his apartment building finally came into view.

There was a little park nearby David would cut through to save some time when the weather was as bad as it was that day, the man at its entrance by the time he’d finished the song’s chorus for the last time.

It was a pitiful excuse for a park, with more concrete and mud than anything green. The only indication of it supposedly _being_ a park was the sign over the archway that said so. There wasn’t a scrap of foliage, or even so much as a tree, if you didn’t count the few rotting stumps. The main attractions included a trash-filled lake, vandalised benches and a playground that, in David's humble opinion, wasn't fit for purpose. 

Although trying to be quick, David’s conscience forced him to stop occasionally to help the odd earthworm or two from the path back onto the mushy excuse of a field, muddying his hands in the process.

He reached the playground, unable to hold back a sigh at the sight; more concrete, more steel, more cheap plastic. He didn’t know what was worse: the crooked, unusable slide, the sad-looking jungle gym or the rusted-up swings. Each fitting was littered with graffiti, just like the park’s benches. A new smattering of broken glass glistened in the rain. It caught David’s eye, and he resolutely decided to clear it up tomorrow morning so none of the toddlers from the daycare would hurt themselves on it, often seeing them playing there in the morning.

David’s feet slowed to a stop, caught up thinking about his rejected application all over again. He’d really, really wanted that job. All he’d ever wanted was work with children. He adored them. David had studied Childcare back at community college, the best in his class, and on top of all the work experience he did back in Canada he was so sure he’d make the perfect addition to any daycare or nannycare service.

The only problem was, no one would hire him. David wasn’t naive. He knew exactly why. It was because he was a man. And men weren’t supposed to want to look after kids unless they had an ulterior motive.

David felt sad, then. He allowed himself to feel it since he was alone, cold and homesick.

The swings creaked and that was when David noticed him. A kid. He couldn’t have been any older than ten, hunched over, staring at his sneakers. He must have been freezing, in nothing but jeans and a t-shirt. Soaked. Water dripped from black curls in big blobs, tight fists gripped around the swing’s chains, trembling.

David observed him for a few moments. He glanced about in a feeble attempt to look for his parents, or an older sibling, or even some friends.

No one. The park was completely deserted.

Concerned, David’s long legs were walking him over before he could fully process it. “Are you lost?” he began, offering a friendly smile. His mind leapt to the first logical conclusion quickly as to why a young boy was alone when he should be safe at home eating dinner with his family.

The kid didn’t react, perhaps ignoring David, perhaps not hearing him.

David got closer and tried again. “Hello?”

It was only when David moved his umbrella forward to shield the kid from the rain that he actually looked up.

He was underweight and dark-skinned (presumably Indian) and David was taken aback by the nasty swell of a bruise under his eye. After a few fleeting seconds of eye contact the child looked away with a scowl, pushing sideways on the swing slightly to put more distance between them. David automatically moved the umbrella forward to keep him under it.

“Not exactly the weather for the park, is it?” was David’s next attempt at breaking the ice. He could feel his hair getting wet from the rain but kept the umbrella where it was.

The boy stayed silent, and David made a strained laugh at his own joke.

 _Oh gosh_ , thought David nervously. What was the protocol when you found a young kid, alone in a playground, in the bad part of town, in the middle of a storm, without a jacket and nursing a black eye? The whole thing made David’s insides do flip-flops, alarms in his brain screaming _wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong._

Despite all this, David’s plastered smile hadn’t gone anywhere. “You mind- you mind if I, uh, sit here on this swing next to you?”

The boy glanced up again warily but ultimately shrugged.

David kept his umbrella over the child, concerned at how his little body trembled. The water was getting in David’s eyes now, but he didn't mind getting a bit wet if it meant saving the boy from the rain.

“Hey,” began David, searching for comforting words, “I know it seems bad. And I know you’re scared right now, but-”

“I’m not scared, I’m fucking cold!” the kid finally snapped, kicking a worn sneaker against the ground.

David was a little taken aback. He’d certainly done a 180 from the shy, nervous boy David assumed he'd be from the lack of a guardian and the signs of abuse.

"Oh," was all David could manage. He wavered.

The kid smirked. _Smirked._ “Nothing else to say, umbrella man?”

“No.” David opened and closed his mouth. “I mean, yes. Yes, I do. You know-” David cleared his throat, putting on his best authoritative voice- “You know, kids your age shouldn’t be using language like that.”

“Suck a dick, _David_.”

David blinked both in shock and in awe. “How do you know my name?”

Kid bared his teeth in something David supposed could be defined as a smile. “I’m psychic,” he claimed.

“Really?” exclaimed David.

“No,” kid dead-panned. He gestured to David’s chest. “It’s on your name badge, idiot.”

David looked down, seeing he had forgotten to remove it. _DAVID_ stared back at him in big, bold letters, the man in question having drawn on a little smiley face at the end. David’s cheeks flushed. He was supposed to be comforting a lost kid, but why did it feel like he had been transported back to his old elementary playground where he was being bullied by Oscar and Noah?

“Well, would you look at that,” David laughed it off, smiling through the bad memory. He unclipped the badge, slipping it into his pocket. “Must have forgotten to take it off after my shift. Ha, ha.”

Kid didn’t look amused.

David steamrolled on. "I guess if you know my name, then I might as well know yours. Wouldn’t you agree?"

The kid pushed back on his swing. David moved his umbrella with his movement.

“Well, my parents like to call me _The One we Should Have Aborted,”_ the kid informed. He snorted in laughter at the horrified look that crossed David’s face. The kid loosened his legs, swinging lightly back into a relaxed position. “Ah, I’m just fucking wit’ ya,” he said. “It’s Max.”

“Oh-oh-okay!” replied David, unsure as his face morphed into another grin. “It is nice to meet you, Max. I’m David.”

“I know. We already established that earlier. Remember?” Max paused, looking David up and down. “God. Has anyone ever told you that smile makes you look like a maniac?” asked Max, kicking a stone. “Because they should. It’s super unflattering.”

David was a little lost for words.

“Okay. I’m done talking to you,” decided Max. “You can leave me alone now. Bye, David.”

David recovered. "Now, Max, we both know I can't do that. I know I’m a stranger,” Max nodded pointedly at that with a raised brow, “but it's going to be late soon, and I can't leave you alone out here on a good conscience.”

“Then leave me on a bad conscience,” said Max.

David frowned. “It's dangerous around here at night. Teenagers come here to drink and take drugs.”

“How would you know? Are you their dealer?”

“What?” David’s voice scratched up a few octaves. “ _No_. I just- I’ve seen them before.”

“Uh-huh. That’s what they all say, but I’m onto you, umbrella man.”

“I’m not a drug dealer, Max.”

“ _Sure._ ”

“I’m not!”

“Then why’re you over here trying to sell me drugs?”

“Would you please listen?” pleaded David. “I’m trying to help you.”

“Ugh. What are you even trying to prove? You trying to make sure the Big Man in the sky will let you into Heaven? Want to earn some karma? ‘Cause I’m sorry to have to be the first to break it to you, David, but it’s all bullshit.”

David was unsuccessfully offended. “I don’t want to prove anything. I just want to make sure you’re safe. Do you want my jacket? You’re going to get hypothermia at this rate.”

Max screwed up his nose. “Ew, no. I don’t know what gross diseases you’re carrying.”

“I’m not carrying anything.”

“Sure,” Max said slyly, repeating, “that’s what all they all say.”

David shifted. He changed the subject. “Look, the Police station is just up the road. We could-”

“No.”

“Why?” said David.

“Because I said so.”

“But, Max, if we go to the police, then they’ll be able to-”

“You say ‘police’ one more time, and I’m gonna run,” threatened Max.

David sighed anxiously. He looked over Max’s bruised up little face, realising then that the offer of an ER trip was no doubt going to provoke the same response. “What else would you suggest?”

Max hummed dramatically, tapping his lips with a finger before he gasped with mock enlightenment. “I know!” He smiled sweetly up at David. “How about you fuck off? You know, because this isn’t any of your fucking business.”

David’s brows pulled together. Max’s behaviour was very concerning. He shook his head resolutely. “I can’t do that.”

“Yes,” said Max, “you can.”

“No,” said David, “I can’t. You’re a minor, Max. Look, if you’re- if you’re refusing to go to the-“

Max gave a pointed look.

“S _tation._ To the station, _”_ David finished carefully, "then… then…" David looked around for inspiration, catching sight of his apartment building again. "Then at least come back with me to my place so you're out of the storm." He put on his most determined tone, free hand coming to his hip. "I am not leaving you here."

“That’s exactly what you’re gonna do,” replied Max without missing a beat, hot-headed. "Like I keep saying, this has got nothing to do with you. Besides, I’m not stupid; you think I’m gonna let myself go home with some guy I met in the park? Talk about a one-way ticket to getting ass-raped.”

The colour drained from David’s face. “What? I would- What?”

Max met his eyes in a hard glare. “Oh, come on. What am I supposed to think? Some old dude coming over here telling me I should go with him to his place.”

“Old?” David looked mortified. “I’m twenty-three.”

Max rolled his eyes, wiping his nose on the back of his hand before he continued. “Whatever. You gotta have some self-awareness, dude. It’s pretty fucking creepy.”

David deflated. He must be doing something wrong. Was it the way he dressed? Spoke? Behaved? It must be. Why else would this be assumed of him everywhere he went? It stung. “I’m only trying to help. And you- you wouldn’t let me take you to the… the P-O-L-I-C-E.” David got worked up. “What else was I supposed to do?”

Max didn’t have anything witty to retort with that time. He went back to staring at his sneakers.

“I’m sorry,” said David after a beat, feeling guilty. “I didn’t mean to be creepy.”

“Just fuck off, then,” Max instantly reiterated.

The atmosphere turned awkward and quiet. Max stayed hunched over, waiting for David to give up. David, on the other hand, had no plans of going anywhere, desperately trying to think of a solution. The rain began to fall against the fabric of David’s umbrella harder and his arm ached from being outstretched for so long.

 _What am I supposed to do?_ It was torture. Unable to leave Max there, unable to take him to him to the police station, unable to take him home. _Think, David. Think. Think._

Then, it came to him. David nodded to himself, a good-natured smile lighting up his face.

“I know, Max!” he shared, “How about we go to Goodwill instead? That way I can buy you some dry clothes and a jacket, and you could get changed in the changing rooms.”

Max straightened up and blinked David’s way.

David gave a nod of encouragement.

Max squinted suspiciously. “What’s the catch, umbrella man?”

“There isn’t one! I keep trying to tell you,” insisted David, “I just want to help.”

Max scowled, David’s kindness making him uncomfortable. “Gay.”

David concealed a sad smile with (what he hoped was, at least) a reassuring one. “So, is that a yes?”

Max pointed an accusing, trembling finger. “Just as long as you wipe that disgusting smile off your dumb face."

-

“How about this one?” David wrestled out another jacket that looked about Max’s size from the rails.

It was red, a black stripe up the back. It was so old the coated metal of its black zippers had worn away to the point it was exposing chips of steel underneath. The coat was just as ugly as the last five David had picked out, and Max shook his head in disdain.

“Okay-Dokay.” David put it back on the rail, not saying anything further.

Max chewed on the inside of his cheek, shifting from foot to foot as he kept his distance. They had everything else: a yellow t-shirt, dark jeans, some red sneakers that hung from David’s long fingers that he’d stuffed with a pair of socks, an old bath towel draped over his arm.

"I don't want to rush you," reminded David, “but they’re going to be closing up soon, so you need to pick something quick, so you have enough time to change."

Max didn’t reply. His arms were crossed. He shrugged up his shoulders and repressed a shiver. A little water from his hair had dribbled down the back of his neck.

There was a pause, before David tried being more direct. “How about you pick out the jacket?”

Max just shrugged again and looked even more disinterested.

“You have to work with me on this, buddy. My fashion sense can’t be that bad.” David laughed.

Nothing. Max didn’t even crack an insult. It was strange - as soon as they’d left the isolation of the park he hadn’t uttered a single word. Everything about the situation seemed to be putting him on edge, and David couldn’t understand why. They were in public and inside. He’d have thought the park would be the place for anxiety if you were an abused kid getting out of the house for a few hours.

“Alright.” David stayed upbeat. “Let’s look at the hoodies instead.” They walked a few feet forward and David began to flip through the lower-end sizes. He stopped. “This one looks like it would fit you.”

He manoeuvred the hanger loose, carefully untangling the blue material from the others. He held it up to show Max with a “what do you think?” and considered the look of apathy he got back a victory. At least it wasn’t disgust. That meant Max liked it, right?

It was simpler than some of the other jackets David had offered. It was cotton, and thus wouldn’t be waterproof, but the fabric was thick and the colour was inoffensive. It would keep Max warm until summer, the big pocket at the front meaning the kid would be able to have somewhere to put his cold hands since David didn’t really have the cash to fork out for some gloves on top of everything else.

“So that’s a yes?” David went in for confirmation.

Max averted his eyes. “Whatever.”

 _That’s a yes,_ thought David. “Okay!” he chippered, hanging it over his arm with everything else. “Let’s go pay!”

They headed over to the cashier, a little old lady who gave a friendly smile, which David politely returned. He set Max’s new clothes onto the counter. “Just these, please,” he said, the woman scooping them towards herself, trembling hands beginning to remove everything from their hangers.

“Would you like a bag, deary?” she asked.

“No, thank you. We’re…” David changed his mind. “Actually, yes.” He turned a little toward Max. “We can put your wet clothes in that,” he explained.

“Whatever,” Max repeated with a little more force, un-crossing and re-crossing his arms.

The old lady shook her head a little but still smiled. "I don't know," she tittered, scanning the tags and folding David’s purchases up into a neat little pile, finishing with the towel on top. “Young people these days.”

David gave a polite chuckle. He felt Max tense up beside him.

“That’ll be sixteen dollars and fifty cents,” she said with another smile and a light pat to the towel.

“Sure.” David smiled, weeping internally at the price as he unzipped his rucksack. He found his wallet and removed his card from its sleeve. It was at times like these he wished Mr Campbell would let them keep their tips. Crossing his toes inside his shoe, David pushed the chip into the card machine, tapped in his pin nervously and successfully held in a breath of relief when it beeped happily. The charge hadn’t been rejected.

“Here’s your receipt, and your bag.” The cashier, as unmindful to David’s mini-meltdown as Max, continued her spiel.

“Thank you very much, ma’am.” David turned his attention back to Max. “Okay, you can go get changed now.”

Max didn’t seem to like that. “I don’t need your permission, _David.”_

David opened his mouth to agree that no, Max didn’t need his permission, but was cut off by the lady behind the counter.

“You should be nicer to your father, young man,” she scolded Max. “Spending his hard-earned pennies on you. Back in my day-”

“Bite me, old lady,” interrupted Max. He pushed up onto his toes, draped the towel around himself and collected up his new, second-hand clothes.

“Max!” squeaked David, but it was too late. Max had already sauntered off to the other side of the store. “Sorry,” blurted David. He brought up two palms and waved them about. “I’m so sorry.”

The old lady, _Shirley_ , David now realised as he read her nametag to avoid her eyes, didn’t reply. When he managed the courage to glance up. Shirley looked in shock, her liver-spotted hands now resting on the counter.

“So sorry,” was the only thing David could think to say. He backed away, his wet sneakers squelching against the cheap floor. Hunched over submissively, his ears burned as he hurried after his little companion.

David caught up fast with his long legs, Max waiting on him by the changing booths. The towel still hung over his shoulders like a cape, the big bundle of stuff in his arms, chin keeping the sneakers in place on top.

“Max,” whispered David once he reached him, “you shouldn’t talk to people like that. It’s not very nice.”

“Shut up,” spat Max in return, David cringing as it carried across the store, but Max wasn’t done. “By the way, I’m not paying you back.”

David’s scolding gaze softened. He guessed Max’s rudeness towards the cashier perhaps might have been a side effect of him working up the courage for this confrontation. It made sense when he thought about it - Max was embarrassed and didn’t want to be in David’s debt. Recalling all his lectures on troubled, vulnerable children, David stayed calm. His smile came back. “Oh, Max. You don’t have to worry about that.”

His reassurance had the opposite effect to what David had wanted, as instead of sagging in relief, Max drew the clothes closer to his chest in defence, glaring at David harder. “I’m not,” he snapped, and after a moment, war pathed on. “And just so you know, I don’t owe you shit because of this.”

David blinked. It was impossible to know what was the right thing to do with this one. He just kept smiling and pretending everything was fine. He was good at that. “Right.”

There was another pause on Max’s end, David watching the cogs turn in boy’s head as he deliberated. The look was short-lived. Max gave one last unimpressed glance, turned silently on his heels and disappeared into the changing room.

David had been expecting to be waiting longer when Max reappeared, towel-dried and redressed.

“That was quick.” David spoke his thoughts aloud. He opened out the plastic bag they had been given so that Max could drop his wet clothes and towel inside, which Max did silently. He cut around David and hurried back through the store and onto the street, yanking up his hood.

David barely kept up as he followed after him, halfway through the door when he called a goodbye, and a final apology, to Shirley. She managed back a feeble wave.

“So… what was all that about?” David prodded casually once the door tinkled shut behind them and they were out of earshot. "She was just a sweet old lady, Max."

Max’s pace decreased. "She was a nosy old lady."

“She was _nice_ ,” argued David, matching his own stride to Max’s.

The storm had eased off a little, but it was still raining so David expanded his umbrella again.

“Oh, that’s what you think, David,” replied Max. “You know that gang shooting that happened on this street last week?”

That was a sudden change of topic David wasn’t expecting. “…Yeah?”

Max stopped and David almost tripped over him as he stopped, too, nearly dropping his umbrella. The kid stared up at him, hands now buried away in his hoodie’s pocket just as David had predicted, where he hoped they were a little more comfortable. Max looked left and right, a dark hand coming out again so it could crane a finger.

David, intrigued, leaned down to be closer, bringing a free hand to his ear.

“She did it,” Max whispered into it.

David gasped and pulled back. “No!” he exclaimed much too loudly, eyes wide and comical.

Max nodded solemnly. “They call her Shotgun-Shirley.”

“Really?” said David, Goodwill’s plastic bag crinkling as he brought a hand to cover his mouth in horror.

Max nodded again.

They stared at one another as David took in the new information.

Max’s mouth wobbled before he exploded into a laugh. "Oh my God! You're so gullible!" he yelled in David's face, believing David’s naivety to be genuine. David found a finger being pointed at him. “Of course, she didn’t kill anyone, dummy. I’m pretty sure firing a shotgun would give her a fucking heart attack!”

“Hey,” warned David, narrowing his eyes.

Max smirked, apparently thinking he'd finally gotten under David’s skin.

That was until David allowed the corners of his mouth to tilt up, pointing a playful finger of his own. “Language.”

Max’s eyebrows rose.

“Oh, look.” David straightened up fully before Max could recover. He gestured inside the building they’d stopped outside of, a few stores down from Goodwill. “Sleepy Peak’s open. You want to get a slice?” he offered.

Max looked but didn’t say anything, however David noticed that his scowl had returned, as profound as ever.

“Aren’t you hungry?” David was sure he must be if his malnourished state was anything to go by.

“No,” replied Max, much too fast.

“Are you sure?” David didn’t believe him. “I think I'm going to stop in any way,” David continued before he could stop himself. God, what was he doing? He could _hear_ his poor credit card begging not to be overdrawn for the third time that month.

But Max probably didn’t have a fridge of food to go home to like David did, and being in debt would be worth making sure the child got a decent meal before they parted ways. David watched Max’s ravenous eyes drag over the display of Sleepy Peak’s menu.

“…I want pepperoni,” requested Max.

Looked like they were getting pizza. David wished he had the money to be happier about it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David knows he probably won't see Max again, but that doesn't stop the worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rvlakia,](http://rvlakia.tumblr.com/) what would I do without you?
> 
> Thank-you for all the kudos and the comments, makes me one happy girl. <3

“This… this is your house?”

If Max hadn’t led him straight to it and called it home, David would have assumed the place was either abandoned or full of squatters.

After they’d cleared a pepperoni pizza together at Sleepy Peak’s, David had insisted on walking Max home, something David was glad of now that he saw the area Max lived in. Max had even kept himself a little closer to David when they’d passed a group of gang bangers a few street corners back, as if David would have been able to protect him if they’d tried anything.

David’s pulse was still in hyper-drive from being so close to potential danger, forcing his breathing steady, to be calm. If he was that scared as an adult, it must have nothing on how nervous it made Max.

He had been telling himself that once he got Max to the ‘safety’ of his house he might feel a little better about leaving Max in the worst side of town, but the reality of Max’s living condition just made him feel sick and even more reluctant to say goodbye.

It wasn’t just Max’s home. The whole estate was run down, decade-old housing left to rot by the state along with its poverty-stricken inhabitants. Even so, Max’s place was objectively the worst kept on the entire street.

Street lamps lit up the front yard of the property which was overflowing with trash: garbage bags ravaged by what David assumed were raccoons and foxes, broken liquor bottles, cardboard boxes in different stages of disintegration, a rusted-up car missing all its tires. The freshly fallen rain had humidified everything, bringing about a vile stench that caused David’s eyes to water.

And that hadn’t even touched on the house itself.

It was single-story. A hosepipe rotted away on the side of the building. One window had been boarded up with rough plywood, the other’s curtains drawn, illuminated from the inside. There were tiles missing off its roof from what David could see in the dying light, the chimney crumbled. With the quantity of rainfall the city had just had, David thought it was amazing the power even worked on the inside, factoring in the number of leaks a roof like that would cause.

David wouldn’t want an adult staying here, let alone a neglected little boy, one with sunken eyes and yellow teeth, glaring up at him.

“Yeah, what about it?” Max was defensive, not happy with David’s comment. He pushed open the gate into the garden and it creaked in complaint as ungreased joints scraped together.

David’s expression wavered. He understood he’d insulted Max with his reaction. “It just,” he tried to rectify his mistake, “looks like it needs a few roof repairs, is all.” He laughed at the poor excuse of a joke.

Max looked irritated for a few moments. He shut the gate and said dismissively, “Bye, David.”

David reached out. The gate barely reached his waist due to his height and he was able to lean over with ease, taking a loose hold of the back of Max’s hoodie. “Wait, Max-”

“Get off!” he snapped, yanking away from David’s grip, throwing a dark look over his shoulder. “What do you want? A thank-you? Fuck off.”

David blinked owlishly.

“I told you, asshole: I don’t owe you shit.”

David reluctantly straightened back up, expression crumbling back to concern. “Max…”

But it was too late; Max had taken David’s worry as pity and was already at his front door. He tugged it open and escaped inside, not even giving David a second glance back as he slammed it back shut behind him.

David stood, dejected, watching the little figure behind the misted glass slip away.

Time escaped David, caught between wanting to go home and curl up in bed and wanting to march over to Max’s front door so he could convince him to go to the police after all. His biggest fear was Max not answering the door - was Max’s abuser finding out some stranger was trying to interfere with their business and making the mess a whole lot worse.

He was torn from his thoughts by a hard jab to the shoulder blade.

“Who the hell are you?” It was a woman. She was short, carrying two full arms of groceries, her resemblance to Max striking and immediate.

Started, David stepped back, out of the way of the gate.

She narrowed her eyes. “You gonna answer my damn question or what?”

She was a relative for sure, but it was unclear to what degree. She appeared old enough to be Max’s mother, but also young enough to be his sister.

“You can tell Kevin that if this is his way of trying to scare me, it ain’t working, so you can fuck off back to whatever drug den he’s holing himself up in nowadays and tell him to try someone who doesn’t look like a complete faggot.”

Beyond confused, and a little scared, David squeaked an “Okay” followed quickly by a “Sorry” before he turned and power walked back the way he came.

“Fucking dickhead,” David heard her grumble behind him as she pushed through the rusty gate into her garden.

-

David didn’t sleep very well in general, but after that evening’s events he was a mess of anxiety from the moment his head hit the pillow. He tossed and turned for the first five hours, alternating positions and shifting around his pillows and blankets, before admitting defeat.

Getting up, David wrapped himself in his dressing gown, reaching for the light switch. He opened all his curtains and flicked on the hob to boil his kettle, looking over the calendar. It was his grandfather’s birthday that month.

“What am I going to do?” He sat outside on his crummy little balcony with a cup of chamomile tea, worrying at his bottom lip, mind stuck back on Max. He was unable to even enjoy the sunrise as it peeked up from behind the city’s buildings. The clock above the fridge told a few hours had passed, the tea in the bottom of his mug gone cold. David decided he should start getting ready for work.

The bathroom was a routine, familiar sight. David brushed his teeth and flipped on the shower, undressing from his pyjamas and stepping under the spray. He started and gave a sharp exhale when the water hit his face and woke him up. Ice cold, just how he liked it. He scrubbed both hands through his hair. David shivered and stared at the drain. Water swirled and vanished down the pipe.

He knew it was unlikely he would ever see Max again but that didn’t stop the thoughts from forming, too many questions bouncing around in his brain. Just when David thought his focus was back on the present, his guilt-ridden concern came gnawing.

David thought that perhaps when he reached the café, getting back into the flow of work might help, but he was wrong. It didn’t. It plagued him all morning.

He burned his hand on the coffee machine - _did Max often wander alone like that during the evening? -_  got customers’ orders mixed up on the till - _was that woman the one who is abusing him?_ \- and knocked over one of the decorative vases onto a business man’s lap - _who is Kevin? Are they in danger?_ It was a spectacular disaster, even by David’s standards.

He was once more caught in the dilemma of whether or not he should go to the police after all when Gwen leaned into the storage room.

“David.” She seemed exasperated. “Have you got that chocolate powder? This mother looks close to having an aneurism if her brat doesn’t get his hot chocolate in the next thirty seconds.”

David blinked, shocked he’d managed to zone out _again_ , the instant hot chocolate tub under his arm. “Sorry, Gwen. Head in the clouds,” he apologised with a sheepish smile, “Here.”

Gwen snatched the tub as David handed it off, but then paused. She gave him a once over, irritation melting into something softer. “Hey, man, are you alright? You seem a little weird today-”

The soccer mom waiting at the counter behind Gwen harrumphed loudly.

Gwen rolled her eyes into the back of her head. “Hold that thought,” she told David, fixing a tired smile and turning back around. “Sorry about that, ma’am…”

David sighed and turned back to the shelves, frustrated with himself for being so selfish. Here he was, standing around in the storage cupboard when they were packed. He didn’t waste another moment, plastering on a brighter, more convincing smile of his own as he went out to help Gwen with the swarms of customers.

The afternoon was rough, despite David quite liking customer service and the various perks that came with working in Campbell’s Café (like the free cake at the end of the day, the nearby woods and the delicious smell of coffee - even if David couldn’t drink the stuff without nausea).

The pair had ended up working through their lunchbreak when Ered was a no-show to her shift, much to Gwen’s seething fury. David had tried her number, but it went straight to voicemail, and he had no luck convincing Nurf or Tabii to take her place instead.

Gwen collapsed into a chair once things got a little quieter, groaning after she pulled her iPhone from her pocket. “Great. Kylie Jenner was live and I missed it.”

“That’s a shame,” David placated, as he often did when Gwen was disappointed about something he didn’t really understand.

“You need to fire Ered,” informed Gwen, eyes downward, tapping away. “This is the third time she’s done this.”

David squirmed. He was behind the counter preparing some drinks; black coffee for Gwen and peppermint tea for himself. “That is not- It’s not up to me.”

“You’re the _manager_ , David.”

“Yes,” replied David carefully. He tapped used coffee grounds into the bin. “But Mr Campbell is the owner.”

Gwen lowered her phone long enough to squint David’s way. “You hired her.”

David reminded, “With Mr Campbell’s permission.”

She rolled her eyes as David set their drinks out on a tray.

“Something serious might have happened,” he continued. “We should at least give her a chance to explain her absence.”

Gwen was annoyed. “This is pointless. You do realise she’s probably laughing at you? Why are you letting these teenagers walk all over you? You’re too soft.”

David didn’t reply at first. He reached under the counter for a of couple plates. “Somebody has to be.”

Gwen made a noise of frustration. She tapped around on her phone a little more to cool off.

“Hey,” she said eventually, “are you gonna tell me what’s up or what? When we were stood in the backroom and I told you to hold that thought?”

David hummed nervously a few moments.

Gwen straightened up in interest at the very un-David-like reaction.

“A kid,” he answered her.

“A kid?” Gwen’s eyes brightened like they did when she thought she was onto some new gossip, “Oh, God. Don’t tell me you’ve knocked someone up.”

David flustered. “No. No. No, Gwen, no,” he squawked, “Who would I even-? I wouldn’t do that.” He turned and became very interested in the leftovers from lunch, slicing him and Gwen two chunks of cake. “…I don’t understand why no one ever buys the carrot cake, it’s the best one.”

Gwen slumped a little that it wasn’t as juicy a scoop as she thought, going back to her _Tumblr_ scrolling. “Only you could think frigging carrot cake is the best type of cake there is.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” David smiled, recovered, bringing over the tray he’d put together and sitting down opposite her.

“You really shouldn’t.” Gwen lifted her mug and inhaled a few mouthfuls, humming in appreciation when she saw the cake David had picked out for her. “Nice. Chocolate fudge. Now _that’s_ a decent cake flavour. Love ya, Davey.”

“I love you, too, Gwen,” replied David, chest warming with affection. She really was one of the best friends David had ever had in his entire life. He looked down and gingerly removed the teabag from his cup, setting it aside on the saucer.

“So,” said Gwen, but not before digging a sizeable piece of fudge frosting off her plate and into her mouth. “This kid,” she spoke around the sugar, “what’s going on?”

David plopped a sugar cube into his drink, lifting a teaspoon that tinkled as he stirred it around. “Do you remember yesterday when Mr Campbell asked me to stay and sort the deliveries, and then there was that rainstorm?”

“I mean, yesterday was over twelve hours ago and I don’t remember what I ate for breakfast,” deadpanned Gwen, “but yeah, sure. Overtime. Rainstorm. Got it.”

“I mean,” offered David, “I wouldn’t say _overtime_ …”

“Oh, God. Please don’t tell me you did all that work in there out of hours.”

David cleared his throat awkwardly, fiddling with the handle of his mug. “Could we get back to the story?”

Gwen was unimpressed.

“As I was saying,” continued David, “I ended up finishing a little late, so I got caught in it after I got off the bus downtown. Usually, you know I take the longer route for the exercise-”

“Ugh.”

“- but since it was raining so hard I thought I’d take the shortcut through the park.”

“Mm.”

“And when I got to the playground, this kid was just sitting there on the swings. He looked about nine or ten, and he was shivering like crazy. Wearing this t-shirt that looked a size too small. He was a mess, Gwen. His hair was all matted. Underweight. A recent black eye.”

“Oh my God. What did you do?”

“I asked him if he was okay and tried to convince him to go to the Police Station with me.”

“And what did he say?”

David gave a sad smile. “He told me to ‘F off’ and if I mentioned the police again he would run.”

“To be honest, kind of an expected response.” Gwen drank from her cup thoughtfully.

“…So, then I tried to invite him back to my apartment instead.”

Gwen almost spat out her mouthful of coffee. “Oh my God! _David_!”

David flushed. “I know, I know, I know. I just didn’t know what else to do, okay?”

“Yikes. He probably thought you were… you know.”

“Definitely,” replied David. “He told me so.”

“He _told you so?_ ”

“Yeah. He’s, um…” David searched for a positive spin. “Max is pretty unique.”

“So you got his name?” Gwen was invested again.

David nodded. He paused the narrative to eat a little cake. “After he made it pretty clear he wasn’t going home with me-”

“Smart kid.”

“-I offered to buy him some clothes from Goodwill instead. So, we did that.”

Gwen eyebrows raised. “You can afford that?”

David gave a laugh that came across a little too strained, cleaning some frosting off his hand with a napkin. “No. And I bought him pizza, too. Then I took him home.” He decided to leave out the terrifying run in with Max’s mother-slash-sister.

Gwen put her face in her hands.

David just laughed again, smiling. “It’s okay. Payday’s soon,” he said, before musing, “As long as Mr Campbell doesn’t forget and push it back a week again that is.”

Gwen sighed. “Campbell’s illegal activities aside,” she replied, “what exactly do you feel bad about? Sounds to me like you did a good thing.”

“I let him go back to where he’s being abused in the first place. That’s anything but good. I should have taken him to the police.”

“If the kid wouldn’t let you take him, then he wouldn’t let you take him, David. The ball’s in his court,” said Gwen.

David eyebrows knitted. He shook his head.

He wanted to tell her she didn’t understand what it was to live in a broken home. She didn’t know what it was to feel as though everything was your fault, like things would just get worse if you were to ask for help, that you didn’t _deserve_ it because you’d _caused_ it. The ball wasn’t in Max’s court. It had been in David’s to report his situation to social services, so that they could move him to somewhere safe where he would be loved and looked after.

“I just feel like I should have done more,” David voiced instead. He looked out the window. “Like I’ve failed him.”

“Hey, don’t be stupid. You haven’t failed anybody. It’s not your fault his parents aren’t looking after him. If he’d being abused, then surely his school must be doing something about it.”

“Yeah,” agreed David habitually. He found himself caught up in the memories of Miss Priss caring more about David acting out in the classroom than the bruises that would so often ghost around his arms during his childhood. “Yeah. Of course, they will. You’re right.”

Gwen seemed to have sensed something amiss when David looked back to her, but David had already morphed his expression back to its neutral, carefree state. He gave a little smile when their eyes met.

He took a drink and Gwen did the same.

“By the way,” tacked on Gwen, “I have a job interview tomorrow, so I need to stay at yours tonight so I’m closer to the station.”

David’s smile took no effort after that information. “Sure! Where’s this one at?”

“Vice News.” Gwen tried to hide how proud of herself she was but he could see straight through it.

David’s eyebrows shot up, allowing himself to be as encouraging as possible. “Really?! Goodness, Gwen, that is great news!” He slapped both hands on the table. “Congratulations!”

Gwen looked secretly pleased with his reaction, but still tried to wave it off with a, “Dude, chill out. It’s just an interview.”

“But, Gwen,” replied David, leaning forward to clasp her hands, “it’s Vice! I’m sure they get thousands of applications- and they chose you! Can’t you see how amazing that is? How amazing _you_ are?”

Gwen rolled her eyes again, although her hands stayed in David’s, failing to keep the corners of her mouth from upturning. “Shut up, ya dork.”

David beamed wider, giving her hands a gentle squeeze. “Café Buddies For Life?”

“God, you are so lame.”

David gave the puppy eyes.

“…Café Buddies For Life.”

-

It was nice not having to take the commute home alone for a change, enjoying Gwen’s company, even if she did spend half of it glued to her phone and the other half telling David the happenings of _Prison Moms_ that week. Still, having a proper friend for the first time since middle school was pretty neat. Gwen could probably talk about paint drying and David would be just as content.

They took the 408, and David thanked Q like usual as they got off, walking with Gwen over the traffic crossing and past the Denny’s, towards David’s apartment building.

“Can we take the shortcut?” requested Gwen, feet aching from being on them all day.

“Sure,” replied David, happy to oblige. They passed a few others going in the opposite direction as they entered the park, the muddy areas where grass may have once been still marshy from yesterday’s rain. It was as they were walking by the playground that he saw that familiar face again.

David recognised Max immediately. He was sat on the slide this time around, still wearing the hoodie David had purchased, legs swinging through the bars at the top, over the edge. David slowed and Gwen did too, stopping her story and looking in the direction David did.

Gwen connected the dots. “Is that the kid you were talking about?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. He took a few steps toward the playground and called out. “Max?”

The kid swivelled his head around in alarm, eyes narrowing once he saw who it was. “What the fuck is this?” he demanded, standing up on the slide much to distress of David, whose breathing caught at the danger of him falling. “You stalking me now, umbrella man?”

“Umbrella man?” Gwen piped up, raising a brow at her best friend. She huffed a half-laugh. “Who came up with that one, David - you or the kid?”

“Come on, lady,” interjected Max before David even had a chance to think. “Obviously me. You gotta give him some credit. What idiot would willingly call themselves _umbrella man_?”

“Oh, believe me,” answered Gwen with the same sharp wit, “David’s that type of idiot.”

Max gave a little snicker.

“On his first day at our work,” informed Gwen, “he introduced himself to me as ‘ _D’_ to try and sound cooler.”

That made Max tear his head back and let out a loud belly laugh.

“Gwen!” protested David, but it was fruitless.

Gwen smirked.

“Man, you’re more of a loser than I thought,” said Max once he’d caught his breath. He sat back down (much to David’s relief) and slid to the bottom, hopping up and coming over. His hands stayed in his pockets. “Who are you anyway?” he quizzed Gwen, tilting his head. “David’s girlfriend? ‘Cause I can tell you right here, right now, that you can do a lot better.”

Gwen snorted. “No. We’re friends. I’m like ninety percent sure he doesn’t understand how sex works anyway.”

“Gwen!” interrupted David with a little more force, a flush going all the way to his ears. He hissed, “He’s a child!”

“He’s also not deaf,” Max told David. “And I totally know what sex is.” Max crossed his arms, bragging, “I once looked up ‘boobies’ on my teacher’s computer at school.”

Gwen made her little snort-laugh again, harder that time, jabbing David in the ribs with her elbow like she did when they were watching a romantic-comedy that she was particularly enjoying. “You didn’t tell me he was funny.”

David laughed uncomfortably and rubbed his attacked side.

Max narrowed his eyes at him again. “You were talking about me?”

David’s mouth dried. He didn’t know how to explain that one without making Max angry all over again.

Gwen saved him. “Yeah, of course he mentioned you. The way you met is a little different, don’t you think?”

Max’s piercing gaze wavered. He guessed he couldn’t argue with that.

“Anyway, Max,” Gwen steamrolled on, jerking a thumb, “we’re going back to David’s for dinner now. He’s pretty good at it, if you don’t count the fact he cooks like a white housewife with an empty spice rack.”

Max snickered again, and David cracked a smile despite yet another insult being directed towards his way. He wanted Max to trust them.

“Enjoy your date night then,” said Max, banging a heel against the ground.

“It was an invite,” replied Gwen.

David looked to her in surprise.

It was news to him, but giving Max a safe place was exactly what he had implied earlier, and Gwen had understood. Within the space of minutes, she’d managed to simultaneously gain Max’s trust whilst showing him David was a safe person to be around, something David had failed at all yesterday evening. His chest warmed with love and respect.

“I mean…” Max looked caught off-guard. Eyes wide and somehow younger than they had been just seconds before.

“It’s not too far.” Gwen pointed to the closest block of apartments. She reassured, “Just over there. You can see it from here. The one with the flower hangers.”

Max was silent a few moments. He looked a hairbreadth away from an agreement before his shoulders seized up, the vulnerability he’d just shown vanishing. He stared between the two of them, a realisation awakening on his face. “You set her up to this, didn’t you?” he shot David’s way.

David blinked and Gwen looked puzzled.

“Set me up?” asked Gwen, always the quicker of the pair to action.

Max grit his teeth, cutting off their comradery. “Yeah. You’re just like him, aren’t you? You’re in on it. You thought I didn’t know women can diddle kids, too.”

That shut Gwen up, but not for the reasons Max thought.

David’s heart ached painfully at the implications of Max’s venomous distrust. “Max-”

“Shut up!”

“But, Max-”

David didn’t finish his sentence. Max stepped forward and gave him a hard shove, David stumbling, his backside hitting the concrete before he could remove his hands from his backpack’s straps. Max stood over him, fists clenched and breathing hard. His eyes were wide too, like he couldn’t quite believe what he had just done either.

David gaped up at him and Gwen gaped too.

“You need to calm down,” tried to intervene Gwen, but Max wasn’t finished.

“STAY AWAY FROM ME, YOU PERVERTS!” he screamed at them, but not before landing a hard kick to David’s calf, erupting a yelp from David’s throat.

“Hey!” Gwen was angry, trying to grab Max, but Max scrambled away from her touch, out of the playground and sprinted across the mud in the opposite direction.

“Shit, David.” Gwen crouched down, hand to his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

David nodded numbly. Wincing as he applied a little pressure to his leg with his hand. That was definitely going to bruise. His buttocks, too.

“He’s one damaged kid,” she commented.

David nodded again, blinking back tears. He pretended they were from the pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm loving the new season of Camp Camp so far! Dolph's Mao Tse-tung cosplay made me snort so hard. (That is not a sentence I ever thought I'd be stringing together...)
> 
> Have a good day/night. <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an evening of drinks with Gwen, David finds a familiar face in a nearby alley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, [rvlakia.](http://rvlakia.tumblr.com/) You're the best, honey. <3

The late afternoon sun struggled its way through heavy maple leaves which shielded those inside the forest from its glare. It was humid, and the insects of the forest throbbed lazily with life. A nearby stream that gushed along noisily in the spring and autumn was muted, a trickle running along the bottom of muddy banks.

A bleat of pain interrupted the peaceful setting. The creature it came from writhed in the grass as it tried to escape its predator. It paused, wheezing from exertion before it went back to its instinctive struggle.

“Do I have to?” asked a small voice.

The returned sigh was one of disappointment and irritation. “You’re a man, aren’t you?”

The child looked up at his father in a silent plead, bottom lip trembling. He was exhausted. The strap of his father’s rifle weighed down heavily on his shoulder. It aggravated the hot, painful welts there.

“Don’t be giving me that look,” scolded the man. “Get on with it. Now, do you hear me?” He pushed the knife’s handle firmly into his son’s grasp. “Look at it. It needs putting out of its misery. You want to eat tonight, don’t you?”

The child looked back to the doe. He watched her pretty face stare up at him in defiance, watched her kick and buck fruitlessly, four bullets lodged deep in her side. She knew what was coming yet refused to give up, even as her blood spurted, the colour of the Kool-Aid he’d had for breakfast, over the dying leaves. She was stronger than he would ever be.

“ _David_ ,” warned his father.

He stumbled forward, dropping to his knees by her side. She thrashed violently, and David had to press a hand to her throat to keep her steady. He gripped the blade in his sweaty palm, moving without thought, letting its sharpness pop forward into her jugular before he could allow any more of this dangerous hesitation. He tore across her windpipe like he’d seen Dad show him and Jasper many times before, the muscle tough but easier to cut through than he’d thought.

The noise the doe made caused bile to rise in David’s throat but it was short lived, and her pain turned to gargles as liquid filled her windpipe. Even then, she was still fighting. David petted her cheek with a bloodied hand as the life drained from her eyes, miserable.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered once she was gone.

“Does she get a kiss, too?” mocked his father.

David’s face crumpled but he didn’t cry. He knew better.

“Get up,” David’s father said. “We need to get back to the cabin before sundown.”

David’s eyes couldn’t tear away from the mutilated animal. He’d done that. He’d killed her.

“Boy. You better get up right now.”

David opened his mouth to apologise, but all that dispersed was a panicked gasp for air.

He heard leaves crunch behind him as his father approached. He flinched and hunched forward, closing his eyes in anticipation of what was to come.

Nothing happened.

David re-opened his eyes.

The forest was gone. His Dad gone, too. It was dark and he could barely see.

David tried to breathe again, managing a little better that time. His entire body was slick with sweat, a tremble in his bones as he settled back into the reality of his bedroom. The ghost of his father’s voice echoed in his mind, the marks on his back aching in protest as they rejected the memory.

He turned over, pulling the covers over his head.

Obtaining a little more clarity, David allowed himself the luxury of a cry, ugly and loud, at the guilt of all the lives he'd taken. At the despair of what his father had done and made him do. At the thought of _Jasper_. Endless summers, aching feet, exhaustion so heavy it would make David dry heave. Too young, too young, too young. David’s father trying to mould them into the men they could never be. Men couldn’t be weak, only strong.

But David had not been a man. He had only been a boy. Too soft, just like Jasper.

Both of them too much like their mother.

 _Mom_ , thought David. He squeezed teary eyes shut tight and tried to remember what her arms had felt like around him. That friendly face cooing down at him from a warm lap.

David calmed.

He only untangled himself from his covers once the blare of his alarm reminded him it was time to get ready for work. He refused to feel shame as he got out from bed, stepped in the shower and made himself breakfast. He put on his best smile in the hall, putting together his rucksack and tying up his shoes.

Life was good: David had a safe place to live, a job he liked, people who cared about him and a bright future ahead. There was no need to spend too much time dwelling in the past.

Getting out the door, however, the bruise on David’s leg gave a twinge. The sharp pain reminded him of Max and his contentment wavered.

-

“Good afternoon, Gwen!” David cheered from behind the cash register after the door chimed upon her arrival. “How was my favourite barista’s interview?”

Gwen didn’t answer, the first sign of bad news. She dragged her feet over to David and, a little dramatically, draped herself over the counter. “It was terrible,” she said once she was there. “Absolutely terrible.”

“Oh, Gwen. That’s too bad.” David’s hand went to her head sympathetically. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Despite already knowing how much Gwen had wanted to land the job, David would have been able to tell it was an important interview just from the outfit she was wearing. She had on the grey business suit, the designer one she usually kept in a cover at the back of her wardrobe. He noticed new heels. The extra effort of jewellery and a little make up. She looked like a real journalist already, in David’s opinion.

Gwen made a distraught wail, and David couldn’t yet distinguish just how melodramatic on the Gwen-scale it was.

He offered, “You never know, it could’ve gone a lot better than you think.”

“Nope,” Gwen shut David down, unmoving as he petted her hair. “They told me to help myself to water, and I spilled the jug everywhere. Everywhere. Over the entire conference table.”

On a table close by, Ered laughed. She was in the middle of her break, halfway through the lunch David had given her since she’d forgotten hers at home. “That’s rough, dude.”

Gwen had yet to notice she was present. She turned her head to squint in Ered’s direction. “You’re still here?”

Ered blinked. “Why wouldn’t I be?” She slumped an arm over the back of the chair and took a slurp of her red bull.

David and Gwen shared a silent conversation of looks before Gwen sighed and pressed her face back against the cool countertop. David would have to wipe it down again.

“How’s your ass, anyway?” asked Gwen.

“Your _ass_?” Ered burst out before David had the chance to reply.

David’s eyes widened, a flush coming to his cheeks as he realised how that had just sounded. He removed his hand from Gwen’s hair, waving them both about as he hopped from foot to foot. “Wait- wait- no, you see, Ered. What she means is-”

“It’s all cool, boss. You don’t gotta explain yourself,” waved off Ered, smiling slyly, “I always _pegged_ you for that kinda guy, anyway.”

Face still mushed up against the countertop, Gwen snorted.

-

“Ered, could you please stop leaving your skateboard on the counter?”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“Thank you, Ered.”

-

“Tabii, could you please stop filing your nails near the food?”

“Whatever.”

“Thank you, Tabii.”

-

“Nurf, could you please stop arguing back when a customer complains?”

“What else am I supposed to do? Listen to them?”

“...Yes, that would be good. Actually, just come and find me. Or Gwen. Or… another barista.”

“ _Fine._ ”

“Thank you, Nurf.”

-

It was a Friday again and David was sat in the back office attempting to sort out the rota for the next month. ‘Attempting’ being the key word. It was forever difficult trying to juggle around all the teenagers’ commitments at once, and if Gwen got that job at Vice David was going to have to try and find a new full-time employee on top of everything else.

“Da-vid,” came Tabii’s voice from the doorway.

“Ye-ah?” sang back David, brow furrowed.

He changed around a few more names at the end of the month so that Nurf could go visit his Mom at the Penitentiary and Tabii could go on a spa trip with her friends. Maybe if he could convince Gwen to help him with a few shifts that week it would work out.

“David,” Tabii reiterated with a little more impatience.

David looked over his shoulder, realising he’d completely blanked her question. “Sorry.” He turned around in his chair to face her directly. “What can I help you with, Tabitha?” He smiled brightly.

She sighed in irritation. “I _said_ , when do we get our tips? I’ve been here, like, three months now. Nurf wants to know, too.”

David swallowed, keeping his easy smile present. “As I- As we told you on your induction, tips are taken by Mr Campbell so they can be donated to the charity he’s aiding at that moment. I believe this month they are going to an orphanage in Thailand.”

Tabii looked annoyed. “But they’re ours. We worked for them.”

David adjusted his collar. “Perhaps we could organise a staff meeting with Mr Campbell so he can further explain…”

-

The following Saturday was Acoustic Night at Rooster’s. David had managed to snag the third act and was happy about the upgrade from the opening one. Barely anyone was there for those. He liked to play the occasional show here and there at the surrounding bars in the area. He could only really manage it when he had the time spare and was offered a spot on the act roster, and that was not as often as he would like due to the number of hours he worked.

David gave his guitar a little strum, already on stage. The chatter of the venue continued idly as he went through the motions of tuning and setting the heights of the microphones. He caught sight of Gwen during his negotiation with the sound guy and gave a friendly wave, which she returned with a tipsy smile and a tilt of her Piña Colada.

His set went without a hitch once it began, the hour he had flying by. David stuck with covers, which always seemed to keep people a little more engaged when they were familiar with the song. Once finished, he thanked everyone for their time and wished them a nice evening, going to sit with Gwen at the booth she’d chosen.

“You were great,” she greeted him with.

“Thanks. Where are Darla and Gregg?” he asked as he sat down, throat a little sore from the singing. He put his guitar, safely back in its case, against the booth’s seat. “I thought they’d be here by now.”

They automatically leaned closer together to hear one another over the rumble of the other voices. The next band began to set up on stage.

“Turns out some staff are sick, so Gregg’s shift isn’t over until one now.” Gwen pushed the cocktail menu towards David.

“I don’t think I’m going to be out that long.” David glanced over the familiar options he’d seen dozens of times before and wiped sweat from his brow. He knew it was just Gwen’s subtle way of getting him to go and buy them a round, but he didn’t call her out on it.

“I thought as much.” Gwen rattled around the ice cubes in her glass with her straw. “By the way, that cute barmaid has been staring at you since the minute we got here.”

David peeked over his shoulder, feeling a little startled when his eyes fell straight into hers. She was cute. A smiley redhead, with her hair all pulled back. There were so many freckles on her cheeks David could see them from across the floor. She fiddled with the handle of a beer pump shyly and David gave her a polite smile before he looked back to Gwen. “She’s new,” he commented.

“Mhm. You should ask for her number while you’re getting our drinks.”

“Uhm.” David scratched at the back of his neck with his hand. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, for goodness sake, David,” scolded Gwen, “Are you just planning on staying single forever?”

David smiled sheepishly. “Maybe.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Her eyes scanned about the bar. “Alright, then. What about him?”

Gwen had no qualms pointing with her straw since she was already a little drunk, and David looked. Gwen’s next pick was a blonde complimented by his darker beard. He was on the shorter side (as everyone was compared to David) and wearing a gingham shirt. He was also cute, but less attractive than the waitress. He talked animatedly, the centre of attention in his group of friends.

“He’s kinda your type,” said Gwen, just as the stranger turned to kiss the woman next to him. “Oh, no. Already taken. Looks like you’ll just have to ask the barmaid for her number after all.”

Gwen’s efforts on his behalf made David smile a little wider. He took out his wallet and slid fifteen dollars across the table. “Would you get me something with rum in it, please? I have to use the bathroom.”

Gwen squinted. Then, she scrunched the bills toward herself. “Coward,” she accused, poking his side as he passed.

David gave a prod to her shoulder in return. He averted his gaze semi-down and gave the bar a wide berth, slipping through the crowd, away from the redhead’s welcoming gaze. He disappeared into the men’s room just as the next band introduced themselves.

When David returned, he found two cocktails and a big jug of something pink and alcoholic on their table. “What?” said Gwen at David’s cautious once over of the jug. “It’s got rum in it.”

The pair stayed the full session to chat and listen to the remaining acts; a few indie bands, an older couple with the wife on vocals and the husband on keyboard, before The WoodScouts, who many of the people gathered inside were there to primarily see, took centre stage.

Throughout the night, an occasional member or two of the other acts would come and sit with David and Gwen. They would feign compliments of David’s performance to fish for ones of their own talent, which David provided them with happily enough, and since it was always assumed Gwen was his girlfriend, they were left alone again fairly quickly.

That was another thing David loved her for; Gwen was a wonderful deterrent against intimidating people with her cynical quips and short-tempered snaps.

They left just as The WoodScouts were wrapping up, Gwen with her nose in her phone. David could see she was messaging Darla and Gregg that she was on her way. “You sure you’re not coming?”

David shook his head, becoming distracted by the night’s sky. He found himself woozily wishing he still had his telescope. “No, thank you. I’m much too tired. Maybe next time.”

He felt Gwen’s hand on his back, his friend giving him one of those rare, concerned looks that weren’t readily available to most. It was a look Gwen would so often hide with impassiveness, a forced indifference that protected her from emotional harm. “Cameron is pushing you too hard, David. You need to give yourself a break sometimes.”

“…Maybe I’ll talk to him. I need call him about organising a staff meeting anyway.”

“You should.” Gwen squeezed his shoulder. “And if you don’t, I will.”

David’s grin came genuine and bright despite the bags under his eyes. “Thank-you, Gwen. I love you.”

“I know.” Gwen removed her hand.

“Do you want me to walk you to the clubs?”

Gwen rolled her eyes, turning away from David as she began to walk away. “I’m good, thanks, _Dad_.”

David laughed, yelling after her, “I’ll see you on Monday!”

Gwen looked back, smiling, too. “Yeah. See you Monday, dork.”

“I hope you enjoy the rest of the night!” David replied with more eagerness, “Say hi to them from me!”

“Will do!” Gwen called finally before she disappeared around the corner and into the night.

David’s smile stayed, his stomach warm and his senses dulled, ready for a plate of something greasy and, preferably, covered in melted cheese before bed. He readjusted his guitar case strap, shifting around a group of drunken girls smoking outside and heading in the direction of home. He hoped the walk might sober him up a little.

Turning onto a quieter street a few blocks later, movement in one of the alleys David passed caught his eye. Assuming it would be a couple in the midst of intercourse, David went to speed his step, but a wet, sickly gag had him turn his head before he could think better of it.

It was dark, but David’s eyes had already adjusted, just needing a moment to thread the sight together. The figure was close to the entrance onto the street, squatting beside the dumpster of the Chinese takeaway next door. They were small and frail. A child. A homeless child scooping food out of a carton with their hands

David took a cautious step forward.

The figure looked up, shoulders going rigid with fear, and David stopped in his tracks. His hand relaxed on the strap of his case.

“Max?” David couldn’t believe it.

The scared look vanished from Max’s face. “Oh, great,” he said. “It’s you.”

“Yes, it’s me,” confirmed David. He took another step forward. “Goodness, what are you eating? Is that from the- Max, you’re going to make yourself sick eating from the trash.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“Then why…” David trailed off. He knew why.

Max gripped the edges of the carton, glaring down at the leftovers. “Why do you think I’m eating out a fucking dumpster, you retard? Because I’m- because I-” Max couldn’t even finish his sentence.

David’s heart broke. How could he have left Max like this? It was all his fault. He could have helped him and because he didn’t the kid was having to go dumpster diving for his next meal. David remembered Max’s caretaker and her armful of groceries. Why wasn’t Max getting fed?

Max sniffled.

“Oh, buddy.” David reached out a hand to try and be of comfort.

“No. Stay away,” barked Max, “I don’t want you standing over me.”

David frowned but complied, shifting back.

Max sniffled again, releasing the noodles so he could press his hands into his eyes.

“Can I at least sit with you?” compromised David.

Another sniffle. Max flopped his hands into his lap and shot David a glare. “…Fine.”

David came forward and manoeuvred his guitar off his back. He shifted into sitting beside Max on the dirty concrete, back against the wall.

“Ugh. You stink,” complained Max, bringing a sleeve to his nose.

David wasn’t sure if he meant the sweat from the stage lights or the liquor he’d shared with Gwen, but gave a “sorry” anyway.

A few people followed David’s suit and walked by the alley. Unlike him, they remained oblivious to what was inside, shouting between themselves drunkenly. Max shrank inwards, into David’s side. David could feel him shaking, Max staying pressed up against him even when they’d passed.

David got a better look at the carton of noodles now he was closer, pulling a disgusted face at the state of them. It was no wonder Max had been gagging.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” asked Max.

“A little,” answered David honestly, pushing away the carton with his foot.

Max scoffed. “That’s subjective.”

David was a little surprised Max even knew what that meant. “Yes, you’re right. It is,” replied David, “but I’m sober enough to make sure you’re safe, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“God, David, can we _please_ not start this Samaritan routine again?”

David sighed tiredly and rubbed a hand over his face. This kid was infuriatingly stubborn. A few cars drove by and a cat’s screech as it searched for a mate came from the other side of the alley. Foreign yelling came from the open window of the takeaway’s kitchen.

David could feel his eyes drooping a little, but he forced them to remain open. His ass was already damp and cold and he’d only been there five minutes. He hated to think how Max felt.

“I shouldn’t have kicked you,” Max voiced, interrupting David’s thought, a real regret to his tone. “I shouldn’t have shoved you, either. I thought about it and… I shouldn’t have done it.”

“No,” agreed David, “probably not. But that’s in the past now, so let’s leave it there.”

“Why are you not angry?” replied Max after a moment. “You should hate me.”

David shook his head. “I could never hate you. I know you only did it because you were scared and don’t know me or Gwen very well.”

“I wasn’t scared,” retorted Max grumpily.

“It’s okay to let yourself feel your emotions, Max. It’s very important, actually. Healthy.”

Max made an impatient noise. The conversation lulled. A couple walked by, and Max pressed in a little closer again as they laughed between themselves.

David wanted to bring a hand to Max’s back but restrained. He inhaled another sigh. “So, your house isn’t an option tonight, then?”

Max shook his head.

“The station neither?”

“No.” Max’s response was as forceful as it had been the last time cops had been mentioned.

David pinched the bridge of his nose a few times. He dropped his arm and looked at Max. “Then you’re just going to have to come home with me.”

“Don’t wanna.” The petulant tone indicated Max really was exhausted.

“Max, you are sat in a dark alley eating rotten noodles,” pointed out David. “I think you know my apartment will be safer.”

Max muttered something inflammatory.

David ignored it. “This is no place for a child.”

“And what do _you_ know about kids?”

“A lot,” exclaimed David, turning more towards him. “I have a Bachelor’s in child care.”

Max hadn’t been expecting that. He was visibly surprised. “Like a social worker?” There was a tinge of nervous panic in Max’s tone that hadn’t been there before.

David nipped it in the bud. “Not necessarily. I’d prefer to work in a Day Care or Kindergarten.”

Max let out a breath of something David guessed was relief. His snark returned. “Then aren’t I a little old for you to be looking after?”

David shook his head again. “All kids deserve looking after.”

“Why do you even fucking care?!” snapped Max in built up frustration.

“Because somebody fucking has to!” cut back David before he could control himself.

Max’s eyes became owlish in the dark. He shrunk backwards from David’s side.

David steadied his breathing, heart rate beating at a mile a minute as he looked at Max in pure infuriation. Then, an idea came to him. He stood up, brushing off the back of his pants and slinging his guitar back over his head.

“I’m going home,” he said curtly. “You can come with me or you can sit next to this dumpster all night and make yourself sick.”

Leaving Max sat on the grubby floor, David exited the alleyway without another word. He forced himself not to look back and put one foot in front of the other as he went up the street. _Come on, Max_ , he thought, _follow me, buddy. Please just follow me._

David was just about to turn around and call his bluff when he heard Max’s small footsteps behind him. His shoulders sagged in relief, slowing his stride to allow Max to catch up. Max’s hands stayed deep in his pockets, and he didn’t speak, a grimace twisting his face into something awful, but he kept close to David like he had that first night he’d walked him home.

“No, this way,” was the only thing David uttered during their entire walk, guiding Max away from the park’s entrance when he attempted to cut through it. He wanted to keep them under the semi-safety of streetlamps.

The sick feeling that recently kept up a constant churn in the pit of David’s stomach over Max finally settled the closer they got to his apartment. Max was going to be safe. David was going to know where he was and he was going to be _safe_. It felt unreal finally having Max in the lobby of his building, using his key card to tap them inside.

“How does that work?” asked Max. His expression proceeded to look it regretted the question slipping out.

David, again, was momentarily surprised. “Magnets, I think,” guessed David with a smile, biting back praise at his curiosity.  “We should look it up later.”

Max looked anywhere but David, shrugging up a shoulder as they entered the elevator.

“Why are you embarrassed?” David looked down at his little companion, doing his best to control any swaying. “Learning new things is fun!”

“Learning is for nerds.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a nerd.”

Max rolled his eyes.

“You know,” said David, “you should leave some of that teenage angst for when you’re actually a teenager. There’s only so much. You’ll run out of it.”

“Oh my God, shut up.” Max looked as if he were almost fighting off a smile.

David allowed his own grin to come easily. He brought out a hand to ruffle up Max’s hair, and Max batted it away.

“Drunk idiot,” commented Max, leaving the elevator first once it reached the correct floor.

They reached his door, number 34, and David let him inside. He miraculously managed to get his key in first time, glad of it since it gave an appearance of David being steadier than he was, needing Max to feel secure.

“Huh. It’s normal-er than I thought it was gonna be.” Max said once they passed the threshold.

“Thanks.” David locked up the door behind Max, pulling across the chain lock. He removed his guitar case for the last time and leaned by the door temporarily for the night. He leaned down, using one hand to steady himself against the wall as he unlaced his first trainer.

“Aren’t you going to take off your shoes, too?” he requested in Max’s direction.

“Nope,” popped Max back.

“Alrighty.” David didn’t push. He wriggled off his first shoe, starting on the second. “You want a grilled cheese sandwich? I’m going to have one before bed.”

“I guess. If you’re eating one,” replied Max like David hadn’t caught him eating out of a dumpster twenty minutes ago.

Max moved off down the hall to explore.

David’s eyebrows came together in confusion at the state of the back of Max’s jacket. “What happened to your hood?” he asked. The thing had been torn straight off, its broken stitching still visible.

Max froze. “None of your business,” he first snapped. But then he sighed, and pulled out the severed hood from his pocket, turning around to show David.

It was bizarre but David could sense it was touchy, so left it. “Put it - if you want to - you can put it over there and I’ll sew it back on tomorrow, okay?”

“Whatever, Dave-a-lene.”

The insult to David’s masculinity stayed ignored on David’s end. Sock-footed, David went into the kitchen. He put together a couple sandwiches, and after a moment of sloppy thought, made another two. They weren’t anything special, just bread, a little butter and some cheddar cheese, but it was exactly what David wanted, and exactly what Max needed.

He drizzled oil in a pan, dropping in the first sandwich once it had heated. The bread made an appealing crackling sound as it made contact, David leaning forward to open the kitchen window.

Max must have finished his self-tour of the place, as he appeared by David’s side. He peered over the hob and scrunched up his nose. “Ew. Brown bread.”

“Well, you see, Max, white bread is just chemicals and empty calories,” educated David.

“Yeah, but at least those chemicals and empty calories taste good.”

“That’s subjective,” answered David, using the same tone Max had playfully - which Max rolled his eyes at - informing, “I think brown bread tastes better.”

“Well, you see, David,” Max imitated David this time, finishing with a non-committal, “you’re a weirdo.”  Despite what he had said, Max still leaned forward to take in greedy breaths of the delicious smell.

David cracked a smile, burping softly in his mouth and able to taste whatever that pink concoction Gwen had ordered had been. Max giggled at him and David excused himself, looking back to the pan and glad that Max still had the ability to find potty humour at least a little funny.

The little kid inside him could be salvaged yet.

He pulled out a nearby draw at Max’s chest level, the kid having to take a half-step back so David could remove a wooden spatula.

“I might be a weirdo, but I try not to care what others think,” he said on the subject, flipping over the sandwich. A little cheese from inside melted out of the sides of the bread.

“You should,” Max informed. He watched as David plated up the first cooked sandwich of the pile.

David had been planning on waiting until he’d made all of them so that they could sit down and eat together, but he could hear Max’s mouth-watering from where he stood, too stubborn to say anything.

He passed the warm plate into Max’s hands without a second thought. “Here.” David pointed towards the fridge with his spatula. “There’s milk or juice in the fridge, if you want some.”

Max already had half the sandwich in his mouth, practically inhaling the entire thing, crusts and all, in the space of sixty seconds. If it burned his tongue or the roof of his mouth, he didn’t complain about it.

The sight made David’s heart do an achy little jolt. “Hey, hey. Slow down a little on this next one, okay? You’re going to make yourself sick.”

“I’m just really fucking hungry,” came Max’s frustrated and humiliated admission.

“I know, bud,” soothed David with a gentle slur, “I know.”

Max set down the plate back on the counter expectantly, scowling at his sneakers.

David fed Max the next two without question, keeping the last one for himself. He poured a big glass of water to try and combat any impending hangover, Max keeping him company at the kitchen table with an equally matched glass filled to the brim with milk. He needed as much calcium as he could get in David’s professional and personal opinion.

Cravings and hunger alike sated, David decided it was time for them both to head to bed. He sorted through a neatly organised storage cupboard in the hall, carrying through a duvet, pillow and a pile of washed sheets into his living room. He tossed the throw off his sofa, followed by the couch cushions. Max stood by as David put it all together, still sucking the last of his milk through a straw.

“There.” David patted the makeshift bed after it had been created. “All done. You, uh…” the lateness and the alcohol was making it difficult to concentrate, “need a toothbrush. And some pyjamas. Maybe I can find-”

“I am _not_ getting changed,” interrupted Max. He was on the other side of the room, hovering as he wrapped his lips back around his straw.

David stared at him as Max slurped up the remnants of his milk. “Okay?” agreed David tentatively.

Max set his glass aside on a bookshelf and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “And I’m not using your bathroom either.”

“Okay, Max.” If David were soberer, he might have argued the importance of Max brushing his teeth, even if they looked a little beyond help by that point. But he wasn’t, so he didn’t.

Max glanced to the front door, which he had a direct sight of from the sofa.

“It’s locked,” reassured David.

Max shrugged up a shoulder, hands burying themselves in his hoodie again. He made no move to get into his new bed or even take off the shoes that had stayed firmly on his feet the entire visit. It felt like he was waiting. Waiting for David to do or say something. Max’s body language was all tense and rigid, the whole atmosphere vague and uncomfortable. David wasn’t in the right mind to be doing any deciphering, so all that was left to do was drop it.

“Well,” said David distractedly, “I’m… I’m going to bed now. So, goodnight. My bedroom is over there if you need me. I’ll keep open the door.”

Max remained quiet, so David offered a little smile which he didn’t get back. He headed back through his apartment to where his bed was waiting for him in the other room. He felt Max’s gaze following him.

Last minute, Max called an almost tentative, “Night.”

David stopped by his bedroom door. “Goodnight, Max,” he repeated back with a gentle expression.

Max stood looking lost and exhausted in the middle of his living room. David wished he knew what more he could do to make it better. He tried one last smile, and despite the fact it still remained one-sided, he saw Max’s posture loosen ever so slightly.

A little success. Wonderful. David turned on the lamp in the hall to give Max some light and flicked off the main switch. Inside his bedroom, David stood by the door until he heard Max climb under the sheets, and only then did he go to bed himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you to my kudos givers, commentators and silent lurkers. You make writing all the more enjoyable for me.
> 
> Did you know Denmark has really cool libraries? I went to one for the first time the other day and they had a cafe AND a virtual reality section where you could play games. Kids are actually allowed to play in public here without getting yelled at, too. It's a lovely country.
> 
> Have a wonderful day / night, pumpkins. <3
> 
> Hannah x


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max's mother has always had the worst taste in men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rvlakia](http://rvlakia.tumblr.com/) is my grammar guardian angel.
> 
>  **IMPORTANT:** To clarify, a certain someone you'll be meeting this chapter does _not_ look like our lovable umbrella man, as he does in canon.

“I’m gonna miss you, Max,” confessed Nikki.

It wasn’t a school day, but Nikki and Max had somehow managed to find themselves in their school’s parking lot, crouched behind one of the bus stops. It was the end of a long day of nothing.

They’d hung around at Nikki’s house that morning (Max had arrived just a little too late to be offered breakfast, too stubborn to ask), walked to Walmart so Nikki could buy some slime (Max had been hoping for candy, but kept his mouth shut) and then hung around the park until late afternoon.

They had sat crossed legged together under the slide and took turns burning the slime with Nikki’s lighter to see what would happen, the smell of the chemicals making the bile in Max’s empty stomach turn.  Bored with that, the pair headed over to their school at Nikki’s request, the girl claiming cryptically that she had unfinished business to attend to.

Max said, “No, you won’t,” in response to Nikki’s words.

“Yes, I will,” insisted Nikki. “It’s not gonna be the same.”

Max looked away and sucked in another shallow mouthful from the cigarette in between his finger and thumb. He blew it out through his nose. The cheap tobacco made his eyes water, clearing his itchy throat as he willed away a cough that threatened its arrival.

He passed it back to Nikki silently. The cigarettes were hers to begin with. Well, technically Candy’s, Nikki’s Mom. Nikki just tended to borrow them a lot. She took the last couple of drags and stubbed it out against the dirt, beginning to pick at a scab on her knee. “I don’t wanna move,” she complained, “Carl’s house smells weird and my step brother’s a huge nerd.”

“Least you’re getting out of this dump,” said Max. “Your new dad is loaded.”

“I don’t want Carl to be my dad! What’s the point of money and a new house if I’m miles away? We’re never gonna see each other again…” Nikki pouted. She slid down the bus stop wall, getting dirt in her uncombed hair.

Her roots were poking through at her parting. Her hair was green that month, untangled from the complicated braid she had had at the start of the day. Nikki’s mother was constantly styling her daughter’s hair to her eccentric liking. It was often done with a complete disregard of the implications of her actions once Nikki’s peers saw her.

People were always their cruellest when others were different.

“Plus, they’re sending me to an all-girls school,” grumbled Nikki from her new, horizontal position.

“And that’s a bad thing because?” Max didn’t understand her displeasure. Were he in her shoes, it would be a celebration if his mom was marrying some balding old professor with high life insurance and a hefty savings account. He was sick of all the gang members and addicts.

Nikki rolled her eyes like it was obvious. “Because girls are stupid.”

“But _you’re_ a girl, Nik.”

“I wish I wasn’t,” replied Nikki. She flopped back her hands with a sigh to drum against the wall above her.

“…Cool.” Max didn’t really know the appropriate response. He was ten and Nikki was crazy.

 “Yeah,” agreed Nikki.

Nikki sat up after a while and began to pull up handfuls of grass. Max watched a few birds fly by as the sky began to bleed orange, hands tucked away in his front pocket, pressed against his tummy.

“Why are we even here, Nikki?”

 She gasped in realisation as she was put back on task, jumping up to her feet. “The cafeteria!”

Max raised an eyebrow.

“The cafeteria roof, Max!” exclaimed Nikki. “I’ve always wanted to scale that beast, and today we will! We shall look across the desolate wasteland as kings! Come on, Max! Quick, before it gets too dark.”

She offered a hand, and Max fought back a smile as he took it.

Max was going to miss her, too.

-

The sun had set by the time he and Nikki had successfully surmounted the cafeteria building and left school. The two of them parted at the usual street with a quick, causal fist bump. It was almost as if Nikki wasn’t moving two states away where Max was most likely never going to be able to visit.

He stared at his sneakers as he walked. They may have been secondhand, but they were better put together than his last ones. No holes or anything.

Max’s stomach growled.

The cigarettes had helped curb his appetite a little but now a few hours had passed since his last one and the pang had returned. He really hoped there would be some food in the house when he got back, not just faux-grocery bags filled with product Ahana was holding a few days for another ‘friend.’ Max was just going to have to bite the bullet and scrape expired condiments out of the jars in the fridge.

Ahana was going through another phase recently of ordering only take-out, so distracted inbetween her hits she’d forget Max was even there to be fed. It left Max scavenging for leftovers that weren’t always there, too drained of energy to say anything in case Felix hit him again for making problems.

He normally wouldn’t care too much and grit his teeth through it, but this new level of neglect had been going on for months. Max’s clothes were even beginning to sag off his frame.

At least Felix was finally out of the picture as of the last week, Ahana having caught him stealing from Kevin’s stash. It had been a big relief when they finally found the culprit of the mysteriously disappearing drugs. It meant that _Dirty Kevin_ \- as Max and Ahana jokingly called him when she wasn’t in one of her spirals - finally backed off once informed it wasn’t Ahana taking the cut after all.

Max told himself he wasn’t upset that was the reason they’d split, rather than the fact the man would push Max around bi-daily, spitting names and insults if Max did so much as breathe wrong.

Max pressed a hand against his stomach at another wave of pain, having to take a break to lean against a nearby store window. He realised as the pang receded that he was stood outside Sleepy Peek’s Pizzeria. The smell from the open window caused the rumble in Max’s tummy to worsen.

Gaunt and light-headed, he gazed longingly inside for a while. He could see the open kitchen where Sleepy Joe tossed and stretched out dough. He covered a new base in tomato sauce and cheese and Max could have eaten it all raw. He was so, so hungry.

If he imagined hard enough, he could remember how good one of those pizzas had tasted in his mouth. The warmth of the heater by his legs. David sat opposite him, dumb smile on his face like Max was worth something to be smiling over.

 _“You can have anything you want, Max,”_ the stranger had said. _“Anything you want.”_

Max pushed off and continued walking with a scowl.

Stupid David and his stupid face and his stupid kindness. Max would never admit it, but he longed for the warm security the man had offered him in those fleeting moments. His patient tone, selfless when Max didn’t deserve it. The promise his charity came free of charge, no strings attached.

It had to have been too good to be true.

Still, Max felt guilt swirl through the empty space of his stomach at the memory of David looking up at him from the concrete. Wide-eyed and horrified. Surrounded by broken glass. On his ass because Max had shoved him there.

 _“You need to calm down,”_ his friend had said. He couldn’t remember what David had called her.

He resented that. Max needed to calm down? Max wasn’t the one being hounded by two potential child molesters. He’d dodged that bullet before and intended for it to stay that way. Max wouldn’t be tricked by them. Ahana had raised him better than that.

Just as Max reached his street, Dirty Kevin exited the gate to his house. At the sight, Max increased the speed of his step, hiding his worry with a look of vehement disgust.

“Hey, Max,” greeted Kevin as they crossed path, coming to a standstill.

Max took a defensive grip of his backpack’s straps, maintaining distance. “And what are you doing here exactly?”

“What do you think?” replied the man. “Drop off.”

Max narrowed his eyes up at him. “I thought you didn’t trust us anymore.”

“Daniel changed my mind.” Kevin shrugged.

Max wanted to facepalm the ground. Just when he thought she’d finally gotten out, there came another man to drag her back down. Daniel. Kevin’s friend and Ahana’s new boyfriend, the newest in a long line of good-for-nothing dumbasses. Max thought it was pretty pathetic the woman couldn’t even stand a few days being alone. It was like she was looking for an excuse to get dragged back into dealing and shooting up.

Daniel was on the skinnier side of the men she usually dated, spindly and tall. He dressed in a lot of white, bleached his hair in an unflattering 90s kind of way and tended to be the type of asshole to wear shades inside. Max didn’t like him. Although, Max never liked any of them.

“You should be staying out of all this,” Kevin was still talking. “I don’t want no kids in my business. Just concentrate on school and leave your mom to it, okay?”

Done with the conversation, Max went to walk past Kevin.

Kevin moved out a hand to stop him, withdrawing it when Max shrank away. “You might wanna hang back, Max,” he explained, “they’re a little busy right now.”

Oh, great. That was even better. Ignoring Kevin, Max pulled up his hood and kept right on stamping down the path.

“Good talk, kid,” called Kevin in good humour.

Max just flashed him his middle finger and disappeared into the garden. The gate slammed shut behind him, Max stepping over a few bottles and to reach his front door.

Inside, he immediately wished he’d followed Kevin’s advice.

They were having sex. Loudly. In Max’s living room.

Max’s cheeks flushed hot, the boy trying his best to ignore the front row seat he had to their fornication through the open kitchen as he went for the stairs. At least, he was going for the stairs until he caught sight of the kitchen table. Next to Kevin’s drop off was something a lot more valuable in Max’s eyes: pizza boxes.

Max wanted nothing more than to retreat and hide in his room until it stopped, but the ravenous hunger clawing up his insides had other ideas. He needed _food_ , even if it meant being objected to _this_ to get it.

Ahana moaned something slurred and nonsensical. Max wrinkled his nose, averting his eyes and creeping towards the table.

He moved quietly on his feet, swiping up the boxes. He turned to hasten to his room, knocking over a few cans of Fanta that scattered across the floor. Daniel stopped and began to turn his head. Max froze up, but not for long, retreating just out of sight behind the kitchen wall. He held his breath, hoping he hadn’t been spotted.

The heavy breathing came back and Max cringed. He could hear the rhythmic creak of springs, and with a reluctant glance around the door frame Max could see Daniel was back on task nailing Ahana over the arm over their sofa.

Max shifted down onto his backside and flipped open the pizza box, ready to devour whatever was inside.

Nothing.

Refusing to be disheartened, Max switched around the boxes. He opened the next lid.

Empty. Not even a crust. Just a smear of grease and a handful of crumbs.

Upset, Max ran his fingers through it anyway, pushing them into his mouth to taste. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine it was a mouthful of pizza instead. A slice of Sleepy Peak’s Pizza. And a milkshake. Thick with ice cream and gooey with chocolate sauce. Whipped cream. Candied cherries.

 _“I prefer vanilla myself,”_ said Max’s memory of David, _“but chocolate is good choice, too.”_

What Max wouldn’t give for another chocolate milkshake, even if it meant a night filled with cramps and nausea over the upstairs bathroom’s toilet afterwards. Max wouldn’t even mind sitting through more of David’s drivel. His irritating, comforting drivel.

But Max had kicked him, and now he was never going to see David again because David hated him.

 _Good,_ his mind reminded stubbornly, _he was just going to rape you anyway. If someone’s kind, it’s because they want to hurt you._

 _“Would you please listen?”_ argued David in Max’s mind. _“I’m trying to help you.”_

“Max.”

Max stilled, eyes snapping open and pulling his fingers from his mouth. He had been so deep in his conflicting thoughts he hadn’t even realised Daniel and Ahana were finished.

He looked up. Daniel towered over him with a smile.

“What are you doing?” said Daniel. He had that disgusting, feigned friendliness the new ones always radiated when they first started seeing Ahana. His off-white sweatpants hung low on his hips.

“None of your business,” retorted Max.

“Were you… spying on us?” Daniel asked, smiling like it was something funny. “I didn’t realise you were the type of pervert to watch your mother having sex.”

Max’s was caught off guard, but it was brief. “Didn’t realise _you_ were the type of pervert to fuck a kid’s mother in front of him,” he spat back. Max may have been momentarily embarrassed, but he wasn’t afraid of Daniel. Daniel was as pathetic as the scum Ahana dated came, so Max was sure to assert his authority.

Daniel eyes crinkled, but Max could see it was fake. He leaned down. “Forgive us for thinking you weren’t coming back until later.”

“It’s, like, eight PM, dumbass, how much later could I have possibly been? Not that your apology even matters anyway,” said Max. “It’ll only take Ahana a few weeks at most to figure out what a low-life you are and how better off she’d be without you.”

Daniel tilted his head, intense gaze unwavering. He gave a little laugh. “Do you always speak to adults like that?”

From the floor, Max smirked, but before he could crack any more wise-ass comments, Daniel took a fistful of Max’s hood and dragged him to his feet.

Max spluttered and dropped his pizza boxes. He tried to shift away but found himself trapped. “What are you doing, you maniac?!” shouted Max, “Ahana! Daniel is being a fucking maniac!”

Daniel smiled. “I’d save your breath. She can’t hear you.”

“What are you talking a-” was all Max got out before his hood was pushed higher up the wall. His feet dangled off the floor. He gasped wetly and kicked out, trying to hit the man, but Daniel just looked amused.

“Do you know what I think, Max?” he said. “I think Ahana would be better off without _you_ , not me.”

Max tried to pull himself up to breathe or wriggle out of the hoodie, but he couldn’t. The collar was caught under Max’s chin and he was too weak to stop himself from choking. How ironic that the one thing giving Max any comfort these days was now being used against him? Max struggled, bug-eyed and terrified at the reality of the situation. “Ah- an- a-” he choked.

Daniel glanced back. “Oh, Max,” he cooed, “looks like she’s not coming.”

Max’s eyes blurred as he rasped. His brain scrambled as it tried to search for a solution. He made another attempt at pulling himself up and couldn’t. Ahana wasn’t coming. Why wasn’t she coming?! She must be drugged out. David wouldn’t be. _David_ would never be drugged out. If David was there he’d-

There was a horrible tearing noise as the fabric of Max’s hood gave way, and Max fell in a heap on the sticky floor. He couldn’t have been held up there for more than thirty seconds but it had felt like a lifetime. He coughed violently, the choking and the height and the position of the fall having left him horribly winded, unable to do much but wheeze.

Daniel tossed Max’s hood, Max watching the blue scrap fall a few feet in front of him with bleared vision. Max tried to crawl, but Daniel was already upon him. He used Max’s hair for leverage this time, hauling him back up again onto his feet.

“Get the fuck off me!” screeched Max, panicking. He dug his nails into Daniel’s wrist, but it did nothing but make the man grip his hair harder. He couldn’t breathe properly and his stomach hurt.

Daniel dragged him towards the kitchen countertop, Max struggling and cursing all the way. “You really need to learn some manners, Max,” he said calmly. He clicked on the stove, the hob’s fire whooshing to life.

A new nausea overtook Max’s body. His wide eyes trembled over the sight of the naked flame. Turned out Ahana had finally bagged a psychopath. An actual, straight up psychopath. The kind that apparently choked kids and pressed their limbs to flames to teach them ‘manners.’ Felix with his short temper and violent disposition suddenly didn’t seem so bad. Max would have taken one of his black-eyes over this any day.

“Now,” said Daniel with giddiness, “give me your hand, Max. You want to do this the easy way, don’t you?”

Max snapped back to reality. “Like fuck I do!” He leaned his weight downward through the pain, and when Daniel tried to haul him back towards his doom the new position allowed Max to sink his incisors into the man’s bare forearm.

Daniel screamed out and, when he was bitten harder, released his hold on Max.

Max fell backward, able to taste iron on his tongue as he hissed up at his attacker in defiance.

Daniel gave an unhinged laugh. “You’re more of a hard way guy, huh? I can respect that.”

Max paled, unnerved. He made a grab for his detached hood, crawling under the table to try and escape. Daniel recovered quickly and threw himself after him. He grabbed for one of the boy’s legs but Max twisted his ankle away before Daniel could really take hold. He looked back, waiting for Daniel to get on his hands and knees too, so that he could deliver a sharp kick to his face.

Daniel howled, cupping his nose and kneeling over.

“Ahana!” Max scrambled out the other side of the table. He needed help. He gripped the torn fabric of his jacket as he stumbled into the back room, launching himself at his mother. She was sprawled out, naked on the couch, tourniquet still tight around her bicep. He shook her in desperation. “Ahana, wake the fuck up! Ahana! _Ahana!”_

She simply hummed, eyes rolled back. Daniel was going to torture him - murder him -  and she was too fucked to do anything about it.

“Mom,” he bawled. “Mommy, help me.”

Mumbling nonsense, she tried to push Max away.

Max was going to die. He felt it. It was the night he died.

“You little fucking shit.” Daniel had reached the doorway, only confirming Max’s fears. “You broke my fucking nose!” Blood dripped from his nostrils like a leaky faucet, colouring his chest with red droplets.

“Good, you asshole!” screamed Max. Fight or flight kicked in again, Max picking up a nearby beer bottle and throwing it at his stupid blonde mop.

The action bought Max the precious time he needed to push past Daniel back into the hall. The man was hot on Max’s trail, but Max was faster. Daniel’s fingers brushed the back of Max’s neck as he threw himself out his front door and vaulted over his garden fence into the street.

“You come back here and I’ll fucking kill you! I’ll slaughter you like a pig, Max!” screamed Daniel, breaking off into deranged laughter at the sight of the sprinting child. He allowed his prey to escape, leaning over the gate to yell, “Run, Maxie, run!”

Max did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's how Max ended up eating out of a dumpster, friends! :]
> 
> I know, it's a shorter chapter, I'm sorry. More Dadvid comfort next chapter, I promise. Lots of it. 
> 
> I hope you're having a wonderful day.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pancakes fix everything. (Almost everything.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks [rvlakia](http://rvlakia.tumblr.com/) for fixing the complete train wreck this was. <3

“David?”

“What is it now?” David looked across at Jasper impatiently. They were playing together on the cliffside, throwing big rocks off the edge and watching them crash against the spikey ones below.

The sky was just beginning to darken after a long day of foraging, sent off with strict instruction from their father. Or was it Mr Campbell? David couldn’t remember. He would’ve gone back and asked the squirrel they’d found wearing a crown if David’s bus driver hadn’t killed it.

“David,” repeated Jasper with a little more intensity.

“ _What_?” snapped David. He then realised his brother didn’t sound right. His words weren’t stammer-y enough, too brazen and loud. David’s eyebrows came together. “Jasper, are you alright?”

Jasper stared blankly. “David!”

The last call of his name was a lot sharper, bringing David up into consciousness. “What? What?” he croaked, barely able to open his eyes.

“I wanna leave and your stupid lock is too high for me to reach it,” responded Max’s voice from above him.

David recalled what had happened to get them there.

“Okay.” David yawned and stretched out his long, awkward limbs. He was the recipient of another violent shake to his shoulder.

“ _I said I want to leave.”_

“Okay, okay, Max. I heard you. You can stop,” said David as patiently as he could manage. Thankfully, he was an easy-riser, the world snapping into place quickly. He swallowed, the inside of his mouth tasting of the dry vileness only a night of drinking could create.

“I’m getting up.” To emphasise his point, the man shifted into sitting. “What time is-”

David’s body went cold at what he saw. Without thinking he had Max’s chin in his hand, tilting it upwards. The bruise began where his ears met his jawline, sweeping forward over Max’s throat like…

Like he’d been strangled.

“Who did this?” demanded David, too shocked to keep the distress from his voice. “What did this? Who hurt you? Was it the same person who gave you that black eye?”

Max went from a deer in headlights to a furious, caged animal in the space of a few seconds. “No one. Keep your hands the fuck off me!” He hit away David’s touch and stumbled back a few steps. He folded his arms tight over his chest, hair messy from a night’s sleep. His voice increased in volume. “Stop touching me, I hate it!”

David felt guilty. “But, Max, your-”

“No! I already told you!” screamed Max, causing David to flinch. He was almost hysterical with panic, his eruption sudden and hostile. “How dense are you, you dumb, stupid, faggot motherfucker?! It’s got nothing to do with you! Nothing! None of your fucking business! Unlock your fucking door so I can leave!”

David tensed, hands gripping his sheets. He felt helpless, transported back to his early teens being chastised by his father, which was stupid, because David was a grown man and Max was a ten-year-old child.

Max was still seething, looking at David with such contempt and disdain it was difficult for David to push past it and not emotionally collapse and take everything he’d just said to heart. David felt like he had done something wrong, when he’d only been upset Max was hurt. He felt like Max really meant all the things he’d just said, like Max understood what he was saying and that he’d just torn open a barely healed wound. It was beyond illogical.

Visibly uncomfortable, Max shifted his arms out of being crossed so he could hide his hands away in his pockets. David realised in a detached sort of way Max was still fully dressed, shoes and all. Had he slept like that?

“I can unlock the door,” David wobbled, “…but don’t you want to have breakfast first?”

Max opened his mouth to, David assumed, shout a little more, but then shut it. Max’s breathing was audible and shaky like David’s hands, cheeks flushed pink in exertion, but the tantrum had already drained away as quickly as it had come. “Depends what you’re making, umbrella man.”

David gave a nervous smile. “How about pancakes? I’d offer waffles but I had to sell my waffle maker.”

“You had a waffle maker?” deadpanned Max, calmer.

“Sure did!” David forced the smile into a grin.

Max kicked the heel of his sneaker into the carpet in a steady _thump, thump, thump._ David wasn’t sure whether the aversion of his gaze was from guilt over his explosion or from disgust that David had touched him.

“I just need to use the bathroom,” informed David. He numbly got out of his covers, leaving Max behind and relieved he stayed silent.

Once behind the safety of a locked door, even the overpowering smell of vomit inside wasn’t enough to distract David as tears began to slip out from his eyes, having to cover his mouth so Max couldn’t hear his sobs. It wasn’t the time for a panic attack. He needed to calm down. He caught sight of himself in the mirror after he’d tried to take deep, calming breaths. He was bright red.

Golly, what a mess he looked. And that smell: where was it _coming_ from? It made David’s queasy stomach worse. A quick look around and David suddenly felt very stupid for allowing Max to gorge so much after eating food out the trash. Of course Max had thrown up in the night. What had David been thinking?

David could see Max hadn’t gotten everything into the toilet and had done his best to try and clean the mess with limited resources. A lack of toilet paper showed Max had made an attempt at mopping up the mess, dried sick on the toilet mat. A quick peek into the toilet determined Max’s body really had rejected everything he’d eaten.

Whimpering, David opened the window, snapping on gloves from under the sink. He would give everything a quick once over with disinfectant, put the rug in the wash and then make breakfast for Max like the functioning, steady adult Max needed.

“He doesn’t know,” he mumbled. David wept softly as he scrubbed. So much pain and sadness was trapped inside the little boy; it was no wonder such hate always simmered just underneath surface. It was the reason David knew he couldn’t blame Max for calling him all those hurtful things, even if they tore up David’s insides with memories and insecurities he’d rather be without.

David and Jasper had done exactly the same thing. Taking it out on each other because they were powerless under the hands of their father.

“He doesn’t know,” repeated David like a prayer. The scars on his back tingled. He couldn’t get the image of Max’s poor, bruised neck out his head. The hate-filled words that spilled out his mouth.

David worked robotically and soon enough his flow of tears subsided. He bagged up the mat and the cloth, washed the gloves and hung them over the edge of the bath to dry. He washed his hands, used the toilet, washed his hands again, washed his face and brushed his teeth. By the end of it, David was looking a lot less puffy and miserable.

He made his re-emergence, finding Max hovering about in the kitchen. He must be hungry again, possibly embarrassed David had found his mess. He looked small and vulnerable, fiddling with the edge of one of David’s kitchen chairs. David couldn’t believe this frightened child had managed to wound him so deeply.

Maybe David was a little less emotionally stable than he’d thought himself to be nowadays. He _had_ been having a lot of nightmares recently. Perhaps he needed a therapist again (if he could even afford that luxury).

“Okay,” chippered David, clasping his hands together. “Pancake time. Would you like to help me, Max?”

Max looked up from his idle thought, the horrible red-purple marking his throat coming back into view. It made David feel physically sick.

“What is there to help with? It’s just mix and water,” pointed out Max.

“That’s no way to make pancakes,” chided David playfully. He began to open and close cupboards and the fridge, collecting everything they needed. He retrieved eggs last, lifting and setting down the sieve on top of the mixing bowl.

Max groaned, slumping into one of David’s chairs. He complained, “Why do you insist on making everything so difficult?”

“Nonsense.” David calibrated his scales. “It’s fun. Surely you must like baking?”

“Oh, yes,” said Max with far too much enthusiasm, “but not as much as I enjoy painting my nails.”

David flicked on the radio once the scales were ready. “How about some music? Do you have a favourite station?”

“Don’t care.”

“Okay-Dokay! I guess I’ll just put it to a pop station,” mused David as he fiddled with the dusty knob. “I don’t listen to the radio that much either.”

“If you don’t listen to it, why are you even putting it on?”

David paused, glancing over his shoulder as low, rumbly static filled the kitchen. “I thought you might like it.”

Max shrugged, hands in pocket, eyes down. “Do what you want. It’s your house, David.”

David could hear his insecurity through the brash tone. Max felt like he didn’t belong there with him. It made David sad. “And you’re my guest.” David turned around to face Max, his gaze being ignored. “I want you to be comfortable.”

Max didn’t reply.

David turned, fiddling with the dial until he found what he was looking for, turning down the volume so it was background noise.

“Okay.” David clasped together his hands. “First, we need to wash our hands, then you can crack a few eggs into the bowl.”

David continued his instructions. It became obvious to David Max had never baked a single thing in his life. He was sceptical if Max had cooked, either. He struggled with everything: the egg cracking, the weighing, the sieving and the mixing, but David just took it in his stride, staying hands-off.

Max was surprisingly obedient other than the occasional snide remark. David might have even suggested Max was enjoying himself if that wouldn’t have gotten his head bitten off.

David wiped down the surface each time Max would spill an ingredient, the child becoming impatient with the action. “Why are you even bothering? It seems pretty pointless.”

“Because if you clean up as you go it gives you less to do when you’re finished!” answered David cheerily, rinsing and squeezing out the wash cloth in the sink.

Max squinted up at him, flour dusting his dark hair. “Your attitude sickens me.”

David couldn’t help but slip a laugh at his adorableness, earning him a half-hearted slap to the arm from a puffy cheeked Max.

Heating a pan, David melted a little butter in the centre, ladling up a generous portion of mixture that expanded out smoothly. “So, Max…” David kept his eyes on the batter as it bubbled. “About that bruise on your neck…”

“Stop.” Max’s tone was firm, eyes downward on the bowl as he stirred the contents around. “Just stop, okay? Don’t ruin this.”

David felt defeated. “Okay.”

 _At least he thinks there’s something to ruin,_ the optimistic part of David’s brain offered.

He kept the frown off his face. There was so much David wanted to say and ask, but every word that left David’s mouth involving Max’s injuries or neglect seemed to only wind him up tighter. David was nervous if he pushed it one more time Max was going to explode at him again, which was the last thing he wanted.

David allowed Max to flip a few pancakes, which cleared the air and David sensed Max was secretly pleased despite what his scowl otherwise promoted.

Their stack complete, David rinsed out the mixing bowl and quickly set the table: Plates, cutlery, cups, juice, butter.

They both sat down, Max already pulling over a few pancakes onto his plate.

“Ah,” exclaimed David, immediately getting back up again.

Max demanded, “What?” as David re-opened the fridge, reaching for a top shelf.

“Almost forgot the syrup,” said David, warming it in the microwave and setting it down. The thick liquid sloshed about inside, the bottle wiped clean between uses, glass moulded into the shape of a maple leaf.

Max’s hands moved out to grab it, trying and failing to twist off the lid. He held it out to David expectantly and he happily obliged, gently taking it back and loosening the lid from the hardened sugar that kept it in place.

“Here you go.” David gave a bright smile as their eyes met.

Max looked away. “The bottle’s weird”

David threaded together his hands on the table top. “It’s from Canada.”

Max looked back, giving a squint. “What were you doing in Canada?”

“When I bought this? I was visiting my mom,” replied David, “but before that, it’s just where I grew up.”

Max emptied about a quarter of the bottle over his pancakes. “You’re Canadian?”

“Half,” answered David, only putting a little drizzle on his own. “I’m dual-national.”

“Huh.” Max set down the syrup and licked a sticky hand. “No wonder you’re apologising all the time.”

“Sorry,” said David, channelling his best Canadian accent.

Max snickered. He immediately looked a little horrified and slapped the hand over his mouth.

David felt a flurry of ecstasy at the light-hearted sound. He’d made Max giggle. _He’d_ made _Max_ _giggle_. He continued, “It’s not very nice to laugh aboot the way people talk, eh?”

“Shut up,” complained Max behind his hand, but when he dropped it he was grinning. He cut away a hefty portion of pancake and shoved it in his mouth. With a quick chew and swallow, he quizzed with a little more curiosity, “Is that how you really talk?”

David shook his head. “No. My dad wouldn’t have let us. He thought it made people sound like hicks.”

“Oo-oh,” said Max in realisation, “so _that’s_ why you talk like a fucking dictionary.”

David cracked a smile. “I guess.”

“Who’s the ‘us’?”

“Huh?”

“You said ‘us,’ like there was two of you.”

“Oh. Yeah. My brother, Jasper.”

“Oh, God. There _are_ two of you.” Max pushed in another mouthful of pancake, talking around it. “I bet all your family is your level of ridiculous, aren’t they? I think I would actually die at a David-family reunion.”

David just laughed and didn’t correct him.

They finished up in relative silence, but David could feel it was a comfortable one this time around. Max was eating slower and taking the time to chew his food, even helping David clear the table once they were finished so that David could wash up.

Max shifted up to sit on the counter beside the sink. David let him. Seeing Max a little more relaxed made it easier for David to breathe. He needed to let Max come to him. The kid hadn’t gotten close to another tantrum since David stopped prying and let Max ask the questions instead during breakfast.

He was annoyed at himself for being so dense as to have not seen it sooner. Max needed to be in control to feel safe. David kept taking that away from him by asking all these questions. It was a learning curve. Max was unlike any child David had met before.

David caught sight of the back of Max’s jacket as he jumped back down. He felt around in the water for the final fork. “Hey, we almost forgot! Your hood. I’ll sew that on in a jiffy.”

Max rolled his eyes. “ _You_ forgot. I don’t care.”

“Uh-huh.” David emptied the sink. “If you want to go sit in the living room, I’ll grab my sewing kit.”

David came through and sat, setting down the hood and opening a neatly organised tin of needles, threads and a pair of scissors.

“Okay! You going to take off that hoodie so I can get started?”

Max looked unsure, but wavered under David’s smile, beginning to take it off.

Max already smelled a little… unwashed to begin with, but peeling off the layer unleased a body odour David wanted to cover his nose at. He didn’t, of course, just taking hoodie from Max as he resisted the urge to scrub Max’s skin rosy in the bath and throw all his clothes in the washing machine with David’s colours.

David turned the fabric inside out, hit by another wave of baked sweat. He wondered if Max had taken this off since the day they bought it at Goodwill.

Pinching the torn edge of the hood with the corresponding side of the jacket, David hummed as he figured out where the stitch was going to go. He popped open his sewing tin. The closest colour he had to blue was navy, so he picked white instead. He got to work, skilled fingers pinning the fabrics together, measuring out two arms’ length of thread, guiding it through a needle and making a starting stitch to join the two fabrics back together.

Max watched. “Did your mom teach you that?”

David shook his head, pushing the needle and pulling the thread, tightening it. “My dad did.”

“Your _dad?_ ”

“Yes, my dad. Sewing is an important survival skill,” informed David. “If your clothes tear when you’re in the wild and you can’t fix it effectively, it can cause a whole host of problems depending on the season. Hypothermia, sunburn, insect bites, rashes from poisonous barks and leaves, higher risk of injury… I can teach you how another time, if you’d want to.”

“You want to see me another time?”

“Of course, I do.” David gave a quick smile. He made another stitch, gently tugging the thread again. “Do you?”

Max pulled at the edge of his t-shirt. “I guess.”

David gave a warm smile. “Next time I’ll give you a lesson, then.”

He went back to sewing. Max watched, becoming less invested in the repetitive motions as time went on.

“This is torture,” complained Max. “Why don’t you have a TV? How much longer are you gonna be?”

“I have no need for a TV,” answered David. “I should be finished up in the next ten minutes or so.”

Max sighed, getting up to wander around David’s apartment again.

David deliberately slowed the pace of his needlework once Max was out of sight, determined to keep Max from that wretched home as long as humanly possible. Of course, he eventually reached the final stitch, snipping the thread and removing the pins. He gave it a few hard tugs. Perfect. As good as new. Well, as good as secondhand Goodwill clothes got anyway. “Max! I’m done!”

Max was back in a flash, snatching his hoodie from David’s hands and pulling it over his unruly curls. He pulled up the hood to test it and the results must have been adequate enough, as he kept it up. “Well,” he said, leaving an awkward pause. “It’s been not as terrible as I thought, umbrella man, but I’m gonna walk home now.”

David pushed the pins and needle back into his pincushion. “Max, your estate is four blocks away. You are not walking back by yourself.”

Max threw his arms up in the air with a groan. “Fuck, you’re insufferable! _Fine_!” He stomped away out of the living room, yelling behind him, “But you better walk fast, Davey!” before he disappeared into the hall.

-

Despite their agreement, Max, ever elusive, disappeared again from David’s life for the third time.

The week ran away from David, a blur of overwork and lack of sleep.

Friday lunch time was packed as usual, but David wasn’t out front. He was up to his eyeballs in a backlog of receipts and statements courtesy of Cameron Campbell’s visit to their bi-monthly staff meeting.

 _“-and that’s why Café Campbell will never accept tips!”_ He had boomed to his employees, disillusioned everyone was okay with their profits being funnelled into unheard of charities or apathic to everyone’s displeasure.

David had wanted to bury his head in his hands as Mr Campbell consistency named his business incorrectly. Instead, David hovered beside him during his talk with his best grin and a hand on his hip, feeling responsible for all the unhappy, uninterested faces staring back.

He felt lost and exhausted; David was struggling to find morale of his own recently, never mind being expected to boost it for everyone else. In all honesty, he had barely had the attention span to keep up with half of the meeting, lost in the downward spiral of _is Max hungry right now? Is he being hit again? Strangled? Was he going to be killed? Was David going to only hear of it when the news announced a little body had been found left in a dumpster on the bad side of town to rot?_

After his rousing speech, Mr Campbell had dumped the big box of documents in the office David was currently sorting through for ‘safe keeping’ and dismissed David’s attempts to discuss his work hours, vacation time and need for more staff.

“ _I can trust you to handle it, Davey_ ,” were his parting words, giving David a fatherly pat on the back that left David desperate to please.

But vague praise couldn’t fix this. David didn’t have a handle on it. His sense of control had slipped from his fingers the morning he had left Max to the wolves for a third time.

If he had thought his guilt had been invasive before, this time it swallowed his life whole.

David made a habit of walking through the park every day, hopeful the little boy would be there waiting for him. He’d walk through Max’s estate, past Max’s house, too much of a coward to go knock on his door. He would sit for hours with social service’s number up on his phone, trying to will himself to press _call_.

He was just as bad as the scum who left David to suffer when he was a child. Why was this so hard?

 _Because you don’t want him to hate you_ , whispered the selfish part of David.

Could that really be it? Was all this really because of David’s crippling inability to allow someone to dislike him? Even if that person was a ten-year-old child? Was this all because David wanted his blessing? A blessing from the child who needed putting into fucking care where he belonged?

He hated himself for it. It was eating him alive. He rubbed the heels of hands into his eyes.

Not only was there that constant, internal distraction, but Mr Campbell’s dump-and-go had disrupted the backlog of paperwork David had only just straightened the previous month. For the first time since he’d started, might he add.

David’s tired eyes flickered from the paper to the monitor, hand curled in his red hair.

None of the bank statements he opened were matching David’s meticulous records on the staff computer. Not only that, but David couldn’t figure out how the figures were humanly achievable going on the café’s stock and sales. The profits in the account were much too high.

In complete honesty, David couldn’t recall authorising for Mr Campbell to give him responsibility of the account in the first place. He must have, because there was David’s name on the front of every envelope. But, if that was the case, which it had to be, then what was the point of the other account under Mr Campbell’s name David had been using this whole time?

Where was the money coming from? It just didn’t make any sense.

David would have to call Mr Campbell again. Gosh, David hated the thought of being a bother, especially when Mr Campbell had come all the way out mere days ago, but it was too important to ignore.

Great. Another stressor on top of everything else. Unbalanced books.

Tearing open the next letter, David was interrupted from his concentration by shouting starting up out front.

An audible, “It is, too, the wrong mug, retard! It’s this one! Gwen, tell him he’s doing it wrong!” (Tabii.)

Followed by a, “You guys just don’t understand my art!” (Nurf.)

“Are you kidding me?!” (Gwen) “You’ve both been doing it wrong!”

David pushed out from his chair, storming out into the store. A quick glance around indicated the three of them were indeed bothering a large portion of guests trying to sit and enjoy their coffee in a relaxed environment.

“Oh my Goodness, what is _going on?!”_ interrupted David.

The quarrelling ceased in an instant, and David put his hands to his hips. “There are customers in the shop,” he hissed. “You are all being incredibly unprofessional right now!”

Tabii and Gwen had the decency to look guilty, whilst Nurf turned away and crossed his arms.

“This is not okay! Tabii, Nurf! I want both of you in the office after your shifts!”

Gwen took a step forward. “David,” she said in concern. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay!” exploded David. “I’m not okay at all! I can’t leave the shop floor for two seconds without a complete disaster!”

Gwen tried to sooth him. “David-”

“I’m sick of having to run this place by myself! It’s ridiculous!”

Gwen tried again. “David-”

“And now I’m going to have to stay after work _again_ , sorting out all the paperwork _again,_ because I can’t finish it during work hours like a normal manager because you’re all incapable at your jobs!”

Nurf rolled his eyes.

David pursed his lips. “Am I boring you, Nurf?” he asked the teenager. “I’m glad you find your job so tedious, maybe you should find yourself a new one.”

Nurf looked briefly burned before it became anger. He turned around and pushed all of the coffee cups from under the coffee machine onto the floor, shooting David a look of utter defiance.

David closed his fists by his sides, jaw tightening at the mess. At Nurf’s complete lack of respect for him. At the feeling he was a loser stuck in this dead end job who didn’t even have the balls to send a social worker to the house of a little boy who was being abused so he could be helped.

“Clean. It. Up. Now.” David was seething, barely holding it together.

“Fuck you,” replied Nurf. He untied his apron, pulling it off his head and throwing it to the ground. He flipped David off with both hands, stepping away and disappearing into the back, the staff entrance slamming shut.

David let him go. He brought both hands up to his face, letting out a shaky breath. If they had been disturbing the peace before, David had made the entire situation a hundred times worse.

“David?” The man was finally draw in by Gwen’s voice.

They were both staring. Tabii’s mouth was ajar, Gwen’s arms crossed tight over her chest, peering at him with deep concern.

“What have I done?” croaked David.

Gwen shook her head. Her hand came to rest against his shoulder. “You need to go home and rest.”

“But I need to clean-”

“ _David_.” Gwen was stern. “Look at me. Me and Tabii will sort it. Go home. I’ll lock up.”

“But-”

“I’ll call you tonight.”

David swallowed thickly. “…Okay.”

-

Despite the early leave, the commute home had David glum, only just managing to crack a smile Q’s way as he got off the bus. He was riddled with guilt. He tried so hard to be a good person, but it was only becoming more and more apparent he wasn’t, and never would be.

David must just be that kind of manager now. The one that took his personal problems out on his employees because they were easy targets. That kind of person. Like his dad.

It plagued him as he walked through the streets. He tried to stay present and appreciate all the wonderful sights of life around him, but he was struggling to find the usual charm in the rundown shops, cracked concrete and tired people swarming around him.

He sighed with a heavy heart as he reached his apartment. He took the stairs, and on the last few steps up to his hall he unhung one of the straps of his backpack so he could find his key inside. He walked on autopilot, starting a little when he realised someone was sitting there on the carpet.

Max’s little face peered up. Dried blood was crusted up under his nose, smeared downward over his chin, patches of ruddy-brown dirtying his hoodie. “David,” he murmured, looking half dead laid up against his front door.

“Oh my God.” David crouched down, hand shifting out to touch Max. He pushed back his greasy curls, remembering Max disliked his touch and about to retract the contact before the little boy leant forward into it in delirium. “Max, are you okay?”

“What does it look like?” Max snapped. He held a stare, one defiant of his pain and fear before he began to sniffle. His lip wobbled, two big blobs streaking down his beaten face.

David’s expression crumbled. He was all gentle hands as he got a better look at Max’s face. Yet again, it was like looking into a mirror of David’s childhood. Why wasn’t he helping this child?

Why? Why? Why?

The man swallowed, the rare sensation of absolute fury simmering in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t determine whether it was at himself or the person who kept inflicting Max with injury and starvation.

David spoke again. “We have to get you to a clinic. I think your nose is broken.”

Max just sobbed, forehead resting heavily against David’s comforting palm. “No shit, Sherlock.”

David cracked a smile, feeling tears of his own well up in his eyes. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Max shook his head.

“That’s good,” whispered David. He stood, removing his hand from Max’s forehead and offering it. “Come on, buddy, let’s get you cleaned up and then we’ll go.”

Max sniffed, gaze wavering. David was patient, keeping his hand out for Max to take when he was ready. David pushed back his anguish and forced an expression of affection on his face. He knew from his behaviour such love was as foreign for Max as it had been for David, and he wanted him to have it. He deserved it.

At long last, Max finally took David’s hand, allowing himself to be pulled up to his feet. Max didn’t let go, holding onto David’s hand tight as he unlocked his front door.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max needs medical attention. David needs sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the reason this story exists in the first place. I hope you like it, [Zanmu](https://zanmu-ai.tumblr.com/), honey. :)
> 
> [Rvlakia](http://rvlakia.tumblr.com/) is da bomb.

Whoever had busted up Max’s nose had been nasty. That was the first thing David thought once he’d gingerly wiped away the crusted blood from Max’s face with the paper towel, able to get a more comprehensive look at the injury in the light of his kitchen.

One had to be a real piece of work to punch a child in the face to begin with, but it boiled David’s blood to see how deliberate the infliction of it was. It hadn’t been a drunken or rage-induced slap gone wrong. It was intentional. It was violent. They had wanted to break Max’s nose, to make him hurt as badly as possible.

Max needed medical assistance and David wouldn’t allow Max to talk him out of it.

After a refusal on Max’s part to remove his blood-stained hoodie, David sensed the boy wasn’t going to take kindly to any sort of insistence and dropped it. He found him some Tylenol instead, getting a tablet down Max and filling up a glass of water for him to guzzle on.

David looked through bus timetables as Max drank. He’d decided early on the ER would be a disaster waiting to happen, but David was struggling to figure out what the best way to the clinic was, wanting Max there ASAP.

He toyed with the idea of calling Gwen; the only other times he’d been at Urgent Care Gwen had taken him in her car. He decided against it. Besides, those trips were before she’d had it towed (her own fault for parking in a restricted area during a trip into the city centre).

David reasoned another strange adult would just apply more strain to the situation for Max, anyway.

They left once Max was finished with his water, walking the short distance to the bus interchange so David could find the corresponding stop. He really hoped he’d picked the correct route.

The bus they needed was already there waiting, the driver letting them on as they approached. David bought returns for them both with the scrapings of emergency change he kept in the inner pocket of his backpack.

Tickets bought, Max gripped David’s wrist, dragging them past all the other passengers to find them a suitable spot. He sat himself by the window, David sliding into the seat beside him. Max looked outside and dragged his finger through the dust settled against the window.

They were sat at the back, away from prying eyes and ears.

“I’m sorry about your parents, Max,” was all David could think to say.

“Wasn’t my parents,” grumbled Max. He wiped the dust off on his jeans and pushed his hands into his pockets.

David brows came together, body language turned towards Max. “It wasn’t?”

Despite the fact Max’s torso was away from David, his feet pointed in the man’s direction, knees touching David’s leg.

David opened his mouth to continue questioning but pointedly snapped it shut, thinking better of it. Instead he just looked out of the window, too.

The engine rumbled to life, Max starting briefly before he loosened again. “It was my mom’s boyfriend,” he admitted under the roar.

David caught what he said and looked back over. Max was still turned away. His hood was up, the reflection of his frowning face in the bus window.

“Her newest one, anyway,” continued Max, the bus driving now, making his words easier to decipher. “He’s different from the others. They’ve always been assholes, but Daniel’s _crazy_.”

David’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

Max sniffed. “I thought he was gonna kill me,” he finished quietly. Max made a breathy noise and David could see in the glass he was crying.

“Oh, Max,” he comforted. David didn’t think, wrapping a long arm around Max’s shoulders and drawing him into his side.

Max surprised David by turning to him receptively. He was too prideful to meet David’s eyes or hug back, but also too desperate to push him away.

“Usually it was Felix.” Max sounded uncharacteristically nervous as he leaned into David. “I got it when he hit me, y’know? When I was being a little shit. Sometimes Ahana hits me like that, too. But that’s my own fault-”

“It’s not your fault, Max,” responded David cooly.

Max fumbled his hands together inside his jacket pocket. “But Daniel is different,” he carried on as if David hadn’t said anything. “He’s crazy, David.” He finally looked up with a quivering bottom lip he couldn’t quite hide. “I think he’s going to… to kill me.”

David squeezed an oversized hand over Max’s shoulder. “He’s not.”

A tear escaped Max’s eye, the boy dashing up a hand to paw it away. “He  _is_ ,” responded Max with a  little more force. “You don’t know him like I do. He tried to fucking burn me on the stove!”

David’s expression contorted with a brief repulsion that caught Max off guard. “He’s not going to kill you,” David repeated calmly, adding, “because I’m not going to let him.”

-

The clinic was even more rundown than David remembered. He had expected a little more questioning by the receptionist about Max’s state, but a number and a clipboard were just shoved into his hands and they were told to go sit and wait until they were called.

David, ever passive, was about to do just that until he remembered that they were there for Max, not for him. He glanced down at his companion, Max so close to David his arm was pressed against David’s side. Max’s poor swollen nose and puffy eyes, his gaze downward, defensive and angry.

“I’m sorry,” said David to the gum-snapping administrator, gently setting the clipboard back on the desk. “I hate to do this, but my nephew is in a lot of pain. We don’t mind waiting, but is there anything you can do to make him more comfortable?”

David could feel Max’s eyes on him. Max hadn’t told him he was in pain but he hadn’t had to, David knew a break like that was excruciating.

The receptionist seemed to finally take Max in, his state kindling a little sympathy inside her which David had no doubt often stayed dormant with the amount of trauma she must see on a day-to-day basis. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said. She reached for the phone and tapped in a couple of numbers, balancing the receiver between her shoulder and cheek.

Max yanked David’s arm, his nostrils flared and glare hard. David was puzzled, leaning down when Max didn’t speak right away.

“What did you do that for?” he hissed.

David pulled back a little, giving another look of confusion, but still answering. “To see if they can give you a little local anaesthetic to make you more comfortable.”

Max paled. “Can’t they just do it without?”

David shook his head. “No, Max. I am not going to let them set your nose without pain relief.”

Max’s breathing went a little funny. “It’s nothing to do with you.”

David put his hands on his hips. “It was something to do with me the minute you showed up at my door.”

“I bumped you up the queue. A nurse will be coming to fetch you in a few moments,” the woman behind the desk interrupted their bickering. She clicked the phone back onto the handle, pausing a few moments. “Is everything okay here?” she asked Max.

She peered a little closer, gears turning as she re-read the situation; child, injured, un-co-operative and arguing with the visually unrelated man who’d just brought him in. The same man who was requesting a quick appointment, pushing back the forms he was supposed to fill in, now shifting anxiously.

David’s mouth dried.

“Everything’s fine, ma’am,” a sugary-sweet voice that David had never heard before poured from Max’s mouth.

David almost gaped before he caught himself.

Max kept going in the same, sickly tone, “It just hurts really bad,” sniffling and gingerly touching his nose. He slotted his hand into David’s, looking up at him with green eyes, suddenly big and round, perfectly innocent. “But they’re gonna help soon, right, Uncle Davey?”

David plastered on a smile. “Right, right.” He ruffled Max’s hair and looked back to the receptionist who seemed eased back into the security nothing was amiss.

They were escorted by a nurse to an office for an examination. Her initial suspicious questioning over the injury immediately soothed by Max, just as the lady at the desk had been.

 _“I’ll tell her,”_ Max had interjected, looking her right in the eyes. “ _I_ _was playing basketball and I ate shit.”_

David’s little, _“Max, language,”_ had added to the routine David hadn’t even realised he was partaking in until it was too late.

Max was x-rayed to make sure he wouldn’t need surgery. David agreed to the x-ray but contended Max should be given the pain relief first. The nurse waved him off, claiming Max to be a tough little cookie and he’d be getting a dose of anaesthetic once they’d finished the scans.

David bit his tongue only because Max insisted he do so as they were taken to the x-ray room. He guessed this is what he got for not taking Max to an ER.

It was determined pretty quickly Max wouldn’t need surgery, something David found relief in. He had been worrying intensely over what exactly they were going to do if that was the case. More money and more questions would have just complicated everything further.

They returned to the initial examination room so that Max would finally be given some pain respite and have his nose put back into place. Everything was going okay.

That was until the syringe made its appearance.

“Here we go,” the nurse smiled. “Just a little prick and-”

“No! No!” Max was hysterical once he caught sight of the needle. “Get that fucking thing away from me!”

David, alarmed at Max’s reaction, rushed to the rescue. “Hey, hey, calm down.”

Max did at first, but when the nurse got closer again, he re-panicked. “Get it away from my face!” shouted Max, shifting away.

“Don’t be silly. You were being such a brave boy before.” The nurse moved out to touch him.

“Fuck off!” yelled Max.

“Max, what’s wrong?” David kept his tone steady.

The nurse tried to swoop in to deliver the injection quickly, but it only made matters worse.

“Don’t touch me with that, you fucking bitch!” Max screeched, flipping out. He writhed and tried to jump off the bed.

David was quick. He wrapped his hands around Max’s wrists and held him in place. “You need to calm down,” he told Max, sweating.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Max screamed in his face. “Argh! Let go! Let go! You stupid- fuck, David, let go of me! Fucking asshole! I hate you! Stop! Stop! Stop it!”

Max continued to tantrum. He screamed, swore and demanded David release him over and over.

David flashed the nurse an apologetic look. He didn’t want to imprison Max like he was, but he knew if he didn’t, Max would flee with his broken nose and David wouldn’t see him again for weeks. Doing as he said meant Max would be putting himself back in danger again.

So, instead, David went against every fibre of his being and kept an iron grip around his wrists, waiting for Max’s curses to peter out.

“Max, just tell me what’s wrong,” he pleaded once Max had stopped his shouting.

Max shot a hateful look, exhausted, chest heaving. “Let go of me.”

 _At least he isn’t screaming anymore_ , David thought. He loosened his hold a little but didn’t release Max just yet. “Aren’t you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

Max jerked out his wrists free but didn’t attempt to leave the bed again. “I want her to do it without.”

“Without what?”

“The needle!” snapped Max.

David suddenly understood. He could have slapped himself. He’d been so caught off-guard by Max’s sudden hysteria he hadn’t clocked the causation. His concerned expression stiffened deeper. “No, Max.”

Max argued, “I don’t want it!”

“You are getting it.” David was firmer than he’d ever been with him.

Max, upset, turned away so David couldn’t see his face. He pulled up his hood. “Asshole.”

David ignored the insult. He looked to the nurse. “Maybe there’s some general anaesthetic you could use instead?”

She dithered, looking flustered by the whole situation. She set the syringe back down. “I need to go find a doctor.”

The rounded lady bustled out of the room.

David remained by Max’s side. He shifted on his knees against the clinic’s cheap, linoleum floor. His hands rested on top the sheets. “It’s alright, Max. It’s okay.” David tried his best to begin calming Max down.

The little boy made an angry noise, arms moving to wrap tight around himself. His cheeks were flushed from exertion, breaths remaining uneven.

“It looks like you’re overheating,” said David, “Come on. Let’s get you out of this hoodie.”

Max groaned in frustration, kicking out his feet. Still, he allowed David to pull it over his head and arms.

 _He must be really warm to not reject me,_ thought David.

He folded it up, tilting away to place it on top of his backpack. He looked down at the overused jacket with a mild scrunch to his nose. It smelt worse than David remembered.

The nurse returned with another woman who introduced herself as Dr Grey. After a brief discussion with David about how their clinic didn’t hold an anaesthetic strong enough to put Max to sleep, she shared that they instead had a sedative that would have a calming effect on the patient.

“I _am_ here, you know,” Max spoke up again. David put a hand on his shoulder and Max begrudgingly shut up.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised for Max to the doctor. “He’s having a really tough day.”

Dr Grey nodded sympathetically. She left to get what she needed, drawing up the sedative from a vial. She stepped in for the nurse, holding the syringe behind her rather than in front like her colleague had.

Max wasn’t fooled. “No!” he screamed again, “Get it the fuck away from me!”

“Max.”

David was ignored, Max twisting away with a cry.

David tried again, “Max, this is the quickest way to get it into your system. The more tensed up you are, the more it will hurt.”

Max made a noise of anguished acknowledgement.

“They’re only trying to help. I know it's scary-”

Max gritted his teeth, glowering at his lap. “I’m not _scared._ ”

“Max,” David felt exasperated. “Max, look at me.”

Max did. His breathing was short and sharp.

“It’s all going to be okay,” David soothed him, still on his knees by the side of the bed. He gently thumbed away Max’s tears. “It’s all going to be okay, bud. Here.” David opened his hand, resting it against the bedsheets, palm up. “You want to hold my hand? Just a little scratch and then everything will be okay.”

Max tried to argue. He tried tap back into his defensive anger, but the fire in his belly had already departed and he was left blubbery, deflated and vulnerable.

“Take my hand. Take it. You’re safe here with me.” David gave gentle encouragement. He kept Max’s focus on him, away from the doctor beside them.

Max caved in. He took David’s hand, his little fingers soft against David’s callouses.

“Good boy,” praised David.

“I’m not a dog!” snapped Max. Still, he clung on, bottom lip trembling like David had learned he did when he was fighting off tears.

David offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Force of habit. Daycare worker, remember?”

“I remember. I’m not an idiot like you.” Max sniffed.

David saw out of the corner of his eye Dr Grey was approaching. Max must have, too, if the way he seized up was anything to go by.

“Just keep looking at me,” guided David. He remained calm and steady, rubbing a comforting thumb over Max’s knobbly knuckles.

Max followed the instruction, meeting David’s eyes. David smiled, and Max looked away again, unsure. He gave David’s hand the lightest of squeezes, and David squeezed back. Max kept quiet, although his breathing intensified as the doctor shifted his arm towards her.

His fear was much more visible to David now he wasn’t hiding it behind a wall of anger. If his lashing out was anything to go by, David thought Max must be scared a lot.

“Deep breaths,” told David. He demonstrated with a sharp inhale through the nose and a long, drawn out exhale through the mouth.

Max copied David shakily, more tears pooling out of his eyes. They dripped onto his lap. He whined out pathetically as the sharp metal contacted his skin. He gripped David’s hand so hard it sent spikes of pain up David’s arm, but David didn’t complain.

Dr Grey was unhesitant. She released the shot into the muscle, covering the puncture with a little cotton wool and some masking tape. “All done,” she cheered as she smoothed down the tape.

David and Max both let out a breath.

“Good job, buddy.” David gave Max’s little hand another squeeze. “I’m proud of you.”

Cheeks streaked with tears, Max just sniffled, squeezing back and pulling his hand away.

Dr Grey excused herself, David thanking her politely for her help.

David couldn’t help but wonder why a little needle had triggered such a violent reaction. He guessed for the time being it would remain a mystery, just as many things about his little companion did.

It didn’t take very long until Max’s mind was muddied, the whole atmosphere of the room relaxing as Max wound down. His inward, shaky form became loose and he pointed David’s way, eyes glazed.

“You’re David,” he said drowsily.

David nodded an affirmation. “That’s right,” he said, giving the little boy a kind smile. He was beyond relieved Max was calm; seeing him in such a distressed state had really taken its toll on David’s already fragile emotional state.

The nurse re-approached with her anaesthetic. “Is he all calmed down now?” she asked.

“He seems to be,” replied David.

Max kept staring David’s way, not even so much as flinching as the nurse found the correct spot on Max’s face and injected the next agent into his body.

“See? Not so bad, huh?” David eased off his protesting knees, using the mattress to support himself to his feet. He felt able to leave Max’s side for a moment to drag over a chair from the back of the room, but it turned out he couldn’t.

He wasn’t even two steps away when Max called to him. “David! David! Where are- where are you going?” he cried out. “Don’t go!”

David looked over his shoulder at the Max’s unexpected clinginess. He dragged over the seat with a little more force than he would regularly. “I’m here,” he placated. He petted a hand against Max’s cheek, naturally paternal.

“You’re not allowed to go anywhere,” scolded Max. He glowered, leaning into David’s big hand. “Is this what being drunk feels like?”

“Well…” David was honest. “I’m unsure. I’ve never had sedatives before. I don’t think so.”

Max lost interest halfway through David’s reply. “Hey, David!” he exploded.

“Yes, Max?”

“My face is tingly.” Max brought up a hand, beginning to prod around at his nose. “It’s numb!”

David held back a grimace as Max’s nose moved abnormally. “Yes,” he agreed, “that’s because the nurse injected you with the anaesthetic. But maybe you should stop touching it for now.” He smiled.

To David’s utmost surprise, Max smiled back.

David’s own tripled into a grin, expression bleeding sunlight as he tucked a few curls behind Max’s ear.

Predictably, Max ruined the moment by continuing his prodding and arguing, “No, she didn’t. I’d- I’d remember that.”

David glanced to the nurse, the woman having been momentarily out of his focus. She had her back to them. David could see she was finishing up re-washing her hands, giving them a quick dry and snapping on a fresh pair of gloves.

He needed a plan. She was going to be over here in the next ten seconds wanting to set Max’s broken nose, and knowing Max, sedated or not he was going to kick off.

Hand sliding to his own wrist, David loosened his watch and fluidly twisted the clock’s date out of whack. His attentiveness went back to Max, and he held the watch out to him. “Max. Could you help me? The date on my watch is wrong and I cannot figure out how to fix it.”

David felt pleased as Max removed his hand from his nose before he could inflict more damage. He swiped for David’s watch and failed. David gently set the watch in his hand for him, Max giving it a squint over.

“Are you really such an idiot?” slurred Max, “It’s the click-y thing on the side. See?”

David blinked owlishly and leaned forward. “Huh?”

Max made a groan in complaint. He pushed him back lightly. “I’ll do it! Stupid moron…”

The task successfully took up Max’s drug-addled mind as David had hoped. He fiddled with the watch as he tried to figure it out, twirling around the clock hands instead, currently unsuccessful.

The nurse returned and David gave her another polite smile. She smiled back, getting together everything she needed. Max remained unbothered and captivated. She set his nose back into place and splinted it with ease. Max only moved about ever so slightly from her touch to get a better look at the watch.

Finished, she bustled out into the hall and came back to provide David with a bottle of prescription painkillers. Three a day for the first week, two a day after that until the course ran empty, should only be taken with meals. David tucked the bottle in his backpack and the information in his head. He wondered if he should just be handed heavy medication just like that, but didn’t question it.

He brought Max back to the reception after giving the nurse his heartfelt thanks.

Max was still busy trying to figure out the analogue functions of David’s wristwatch. He had a free hand gripped on one of David’s backpack straps to keep steady, David moving slow, ready to catch Max if he stumbled.

Things were smooth sailing at the counter until the question David had been dreading the most came to pass.

“Do you have health insurance?”

It may not be hospital prices, but David had been well aware the consequences of bringing Max to medical aid would mean a stomach-gouging price tag.

“No, I’m afraid we do not.” David kept the reluctance out from his voice, staying cheerful.

The receptionist read out the bill. Max had racked up quite the amount; there had been the initial assessment, the x-ray, sedative, anaesthesia, the procedure, splint, painkillers. It all came with a steep charge that left David weak-kneed and light-headed.

He was going to be paying this off for years.

David swallowed a choking noise and had to wipe a sweaty palm against his jeans, still holding the child upright with a protective touch.

He looked down.

There Max was. A fire in his stomach telling him he was _his_ Max. Still scrutinising his watch.

His head tilted against David’s side for comfort.

Having fled to David’s home because he trusted him.

It had to be worth it.

He gave the receptionist a strained grin to try and combat the suffocation. “Do you take instalments?”

-

David would have been more concerned that the clinic allowed a stranger with a beaten child, if he hadn’t been so busy keeping Max from falling over and stopping himself from mentally drowning in the amount of money he was going to have to fork over monthly for the foreseeable future.

He’d been wanting to save up for a new tent. It looked like that was now out the window. He was going to have to scale back big time. No more nights out with his friends, no more take-away nights in with Gwen, no more little knick-knacks for the apartment.

He tried to get Max back in his jacket once outside but the kid claimed he was still too warm, so David ended up stuffing the hoodie away into his backpack.

They set off down the street.

“You still doing okay, Max?” David would ask every so often, receiving a grunt or an impatient ‘yes’ in response despite Max’s uneven footing. David steadied him the best he could.

He managed to get Max to the bus stop, walking at Max’s speed as the little boy used David as support; he gripped David’s arm, head down as he watched his feet to try and combat his wobbliness.

They sat together, David letting out a sigh of relief there was space. There were a handful of others milling around impatiently - the fact they snagged seats was a miracle.

David stilled in surprise as Max pressed his face against his chest with a moan of discomfort, complaining his nose was numb.

“Careful of your cast.” David tried to shift Max back, but didn’t get very far.

Max peered up at him with a grumpy pout David would have probably described as cute if it wasn’t for the splint holding Max’s nose in place, bruises blossoming under his eyes and between his brows from the violent trauma of the fracture.

It made David feel sick and angry all over again. Max hid his face back against David.

“I thought they would have interrogated me more,” commented David in an attempt to distance himself from the horrid feelings, resting his hand between Max’s shoulder blades.

“Of course they didn’t!” Max’s words were muffled, still smushed up just below David’s armpit. “I’m a poor, brown kid. Why do you _think_ social services haven’t taken me away yet?”

David froze. He tried to phrase his response as carefully as possible, coming up with, “Would you like to be taken away?”

“No.” Max’s tone was stern, but then it softened. “I don’t know…”

David felt guilty. He patted Max’s back empathetically, unsure what to reply. It’s not like Max was going to retain most of it tomorrow, anyway.

It turned out he didn’t have to think of anything, Max piping up again. “Everything’s spinning,” he claimed. Max pulled back, prodding at his splint. “Won’t stop fucking spinning.”

“It’ll be better tomorrow,” promised David, gingerly taking Max’s hands and removing them from his face. He saw the bus coming and got up. He guided Max into standing, too, which Max grumbled at in his perpetually unimpressed way.

David waited for the people inside to exit and the people waiting to board, Max stability remaining shaky under his hold. Despite the two big hands steadying him, Max still managed to stumble over his own feet when David tried to guide him forward. Changing tactics, David took his hands from Max’s shoulders and hooked them under his armpits. He hauled Max up, moving him over the gap between the curb and the bus entrance before he fell and injured himself.

“Whoa,” slurred Max as his feet left the ground. “When did you get so strong?” He leaned against the driver’s booth once he was set down.

The driver cleared his throat, a wrinkled nose expressing how unhappy he was with Max’s close presence.

David gave an awkward smile. “Sorry about him. He’s a little loopy right now from the sedatives. We were at Urgent Care.”

“Don’t need your life story,” dead-panned the man.

“Right, sorry.” David’s smile became a little more forced.

“So,” began Max as David patted himself down for his wallet, “do you have to be a massive cunt to be a bus driver, or is it- is it something you learn on the job?” Max went to jab a finger, but David caught it with fast reflexes, bringing it back down.

“Let me just find our return,” said David over him. He cut off with an _oof_ as the little terror batted him in the stomach.

“David!” Max was snippy, struggling to keep his eyes uncrossed. “Why are you always such a pussy?”

David rubbed where he’d been struck. “One moment, Max. I’m just finding our tickets.”

The driver looked pissed, shaking his head when David produced the paper from his wallet. “Those are outta date.”

“ _What_?” David squeaked. “But I only bought them today.”

“They’re outta date,” repeated the driver.

“Please,” begged David, “I can’t afford the fare again and I really need to get him home.”

He gestured to Max, and to David’s horror, he realised Max was flipping the driver off. He tried to bring Max’s hands back down again, but it was too late.

“Seems like a great kid you’ve got there,” snarked the driver. “No fare? Then get off my bus.”

Swallowing down his frustration, David told the driver he understood and exited back out onto the pavement with his little companion. He watched in a dissociative kind of way as the doors slid shut and the vehicle drove.

“What- why- why are we off the bus, David?” Max asked from his side, hand on David’s belt, swaying.

“Because we were just kicked off,” replied David gently. His tired eyes followed the bus as it turned a corner, abandoning them.

“Oh.” Max had the capacity to look guilty. “Is that my fault?”

“No,” lied David. He shifted his backpack from his back to his front, re-hooking the straps over his shoulders. “It’s alright,” he said, crouching down, “Climb on and I’ll give you a piggy back ride. We’ll be home in no time.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max is tired, David is tired, but Max still needs dinner and a bath before bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right, guys. It's the comfort chapter.
> 
> [Kia](http://rvlakia.tumblr.com/) has been camping for weeks, yet still finds the time to beta all this & be a wonderful friend. I don't know how her and David do it.
> 
> Thank-you for all the continued support, comments and Ko-Fi donations! Love ya.

‘Home in no time’ ended up being an hour and a half.

The first ten blocks or so weren’t too bad, but then Max’s weight, despite how under-nourished it was, began to take its toll on David’s already overworked shoulders and back. David wasn’t even a hundred percent sure they were even going in the right direction, not often on that side of the city.

“Are you sure you don’t need your jacket, Max?” he asked. The air felt a little cooler than before.

Max grumbled a decline, cheek pressed firm against David’s left shoulder.

David gave Max’s leg a pat in response. He continued to walk, the streets muddled with people.

He tried and failed a few times to ask passers-by for help. He eventually managed to convince a couple of tourists into lending him their map a moment to get his bearings, relieved to find they were, in fact, headed toward Chorus Street.

With a warm smile and a plethora of thanks, David set back off with a little more confidence.

The confidence only spurred David on so far, no matter his determination to stay optimistic. Max stayed loose and quiet. It took him a grand total of fifty blocks until he recognised the area, and even then, he was still a good half an hour away from where the block of apartments lived.

His aches were borderlining on pain. He guessed from Max’s extended silence the child was either asleep or halfway there. David wanted to rest too but he knew stopping was just going to disturb Max, not wanting to subject the kid to being out in the dark again.

David steadied his breathing and concentrated on the swing of his knees, somewhat of an expert on pain management. Max’s breaths stayed even and warm against the side of his neck. His comfort was the only thing keeping David going.

David sighed out in blissful relief as his apartment building came into view. Finally. Home.

They reached the doors. Scooping a hand behind himself to get a better hold on Max, David one-handedly zipped open the backpack still hooked over his front. He found his key card in its usual inner pocket, letting them inside to the reception. Just a few more steps and they’d be at the elevator.

Inside said elevator, David hit his floor’s button with his elbow.

They reached David’s door just as the sun was setting outside the window at the end of the hall. David had made it. David had kept Max off the streets for that night. It was a good feeling.

He set Max down with a sigh. Max blinked back into a more lucid state once on his feet. David noted his eyes appeared a little less glazed than they had at the clinic.

“You okay there, kiddo?” David rasped, mouth dry. He stayed crouched, making sure Max was steady.

Max mumbled some nonsense and rubbed his eyes.

David smiled, knuckles brushing his cheek fondly. He stood back up, finding his keys. Door unlocked and relocked, it turned out Max still couldn’t quite walk straight, so David aided him toward the living room.

“I want my hoodie back,” was the first thing Max said once David got him sat down on the sofa.

He was so thoroughly exhausted, it took David a moment to register Max had even spoken. With the weight of his backpack on his chest and shoulders, plus the weight of Max’s body on his arms and back, it had been a real workout.

David’s arms felt like jello, tingly and uncomfortable, spine throbbing as he stretched it out. His work uniform had made the commute even more difficult, the synthetic fabric stuffy and unnatural.

“I thought I could put it in the wash with some of my clothes,” croaked David, just about catching his breath. He wiped over his face, a wet glaze to his hand as he brought it back. He was caked in sweat. He could feel it sticking to his back and chest, under his arms, the back of his neck.

“Where is it?”

David retrieved the repulsive fabric from his backpack to quell the oncoming tantrum. He wanted Max to see that he had it.

Max was sated. He slumped back.

“Actually,” David swallowed, forcing his mind to function, “we should wash your other clothes too.” He expanded, “I used to mind a little girl about your age last summer. I’m sure I’ll have something somewhere that’ll fit. I always keep spare stuff in cases of emergency.”

Max scowled. He moved into laying and stretched out into a starfish. “M’not wearing girl’s clothes.”

“Nerris is a tomboy, so I wouldn’t worry too much about that.”

Max didn’t answer.

“You want some water?”

Max didn’t answer again.

David took that as his cue to slip away to get himself sorted. “I’ll just be in the other rooms for ten minutes or so, okay? Call me if you need me.”

Max grunted. His eyes had slipped shut.

The first thing David did was down a big glass of water. It had been a long time since he’d been so dehydrated. He needed a shower next. He grabbed some sweats and a plain t-shirt from his room, disappearing into the bathroom.

David was as quick as possible. He kept the door closed but unlocked, just in case. He dropped his clothes into the wash basket, setting his phone face down on the side of the sink. He stepped into the bath and pulled the curtain, giving himself a once over under the blast of the shower and drying his achy body with a towel. He re-dressed efficiently.

He came out half expecting Max to not be where he’d left him. A glance to his living room showed Max was laid out on the sofa, still resting.

Relieved, David went back to his room, still towelling at his damp hair. He hung the towel over his radiator, trying to remember where he’d put Nerris’ spare clothes. David had bought them himself a few days into his contract, knowing how it could be with kids and their gravitation towards mess.

He checked his drawers and wardrobe with no luck, going out into the hall to check the cupboards he used for miscellaneous storage. It didn’t take too long since David had an organised storage system.

There they were. Tucked away behind a pile of towels, tied up in a plastic bag David had scribbled _For Goodwill_ across the front of. He’d kept forgetting to take it with how busy he’d been, glad for his forgetfulness then.

Untying the handles, David found a shirt, some dungarees, a few pairs of socks and pair of dragon pyjamas. Thinking a moment, he opted for the pyjamas since Max looked about as close to wiping out as David felt.

Upon returning this time, Max had moved location, although it wasn’t far; from the sofa onto David’s rug, sprawled under his glass coffee table.

Knocking gently against the table, David laid out the PJs on top for Max to see through the glass.

Max opened his eyes at the knock. He gave the garments a once over.

“Will they do?” asked David.

From the slack jawed, glazed over silence Max gave, David gauged they must.

“How about a bath?” offered David next, fingers tapping on the glass to keep Max’s attention.

Max observed David a few moments more before he nodded.

David smiled tiredly. All he wanted was Max clean, fed and comfortable. To feel safe. It brought him much relief Max was finally allowing him to give him that.

“Okay buddy,” he said, “I’ll find you something to eat and then I’ll get you a bath going. How does that sound?”

Max nodded again, eyelids slipping back shut.

David did as he said after taking the pyjamas to his bedroom. He scavenged together a glass of juice, some Graham crackers and a small sprig of grapes. David would have to do his groceries sooner than he thought. When his paycheck came in, that was.

Max sat up as David returned and took a seat on the couch. He watched as the plate was gently lowered by David onto his lap and ate the food without comment. Max drained the juice last, lolling his head back against the edge of sofa when he was done.

He turned his head and began to fiddle with David’s fingers.

David let him, struggling to keep his eyes open. The silence was surprisingly comfortable.

“Bath,” said David as he forced himself up again.

He slipped his fingers from Max’s, Max making a soft whine.

“It’s alright. I’m just going to be in the other room.”

Max groaned in infuriation. He rubbed over his face with his hands.

In the bathroom, David plugged up the drain and fiddled with the taps of the tub until the water ran warm. He removed his watch, reached for the bubble bath under the sink and added a generous swirl below the stream of water. The man disturbed the water to spread the heavy liquid around.

He left the water to rise momentarily, going to the door frame to peek out and check on Max. He found him back on the couch.

Sighing and perching on the closed toilet seat, David reached for his phone on the sink. He’d left it on the silent mode he kept switched on at work, guilt pooling at the notifications that popped up on his lock screen.

> _Twenty Missed Calls from **Gwendoline**_
> 
> **Gwendoline      4HRS AGO**  
>  You okay, David?
> 
> **Gwendoline      4HRS AGO**  
>  Pick up ur goddamn phone
> 
> **Gwendoline      3HRS AGO**  
>  Are you at home?
> 
> **Gwendoline      3HRS AGO**  
>  I’m coming over
> 
> **Gwendoline      2HRS AGO**  
>  I’m here
> 
> **Gwendoline      2HRS AGO**  
>  Open the door!!!!
> 
> **Gwendoline      2HRS AGO**  
>  David I’m really worried
> 
> **Gwendoline      2HRS AGO**  
>  Call me when you see this.

David didn’t call her. He didn’t have the energy to pep himself up to it.

> **David    NOW**  
>  I’m so sorry, Gwen.  
>  I’m okay.  
>  I got caught up with a friend and I only got home twenty minutes ago.

The response was instantaneous. It came up read, and then,

> _INCOMING CALL FROM_ **_GWENDOLINE_**

David declined.

> _INCOMING CALL FROM **GWENDOLINE**_

David declined.

> **Gwendoline      NOW**  
>  Reject me one more time I swear to fucking god see what happens

David rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a sigh.

> _INCOMING CALL FROM **GWENDOLINE**_

David reluctantly accepted. He brought the phone to his ear. “Hi, Gwen.”

“ _Jesus Christ, David! Do you know how worried I was?!”_ she shouted down the line.

David closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

_“You have that meltdown and then you drop off the face of the planet! I thought you’d disappeared back to Canada or something!”_

“Sorry.”

 _“Where the hell were you, dude?”_ she ranted. _“I came all the way to your place, you know? Do you know what a ball-ache it is getting home from there? The least you could have done is answer me you weren’t home when I texted you I was coming. I told you I was gonna call at Campbell’s! I’d bought us Chinese!”_

David listened passively as he was chewed out. His mind habitually disassociated.

There was a beat of silence on the other end. _“…David? Are you there?”_

“Yes,” he said, coming out of his mindlessness as easily as he drifted in. “I’m sorry.”

 _“Will you stop apologising. And who’s this friend you ran into? Last I checked you didn’t have any apart from us. You’ve already-”_ she cut off. Then came realisation. _“Oh, Jesus Christ. It’s that kid, isn’t it? What was his name? M-something. Max, that was it.”_ Her voice took on a scolding tone, _“Oh my God. What have you-”_

“Gwen,” interrupted David.

It was so uncharacteristic of David to stop Gwen mid-sentence, the line immediately went quiet.

He swallowed back a lump. “I’ve had a really difficult afternoon. I can’t do this right now.”

_“Huh? Do what?”_

David cleared his throat, trying to fight through the rising tears. His voice wobbled as he replied, “Be your David.”

“ _Be my- Wait.”_ Gwen’s tone softened. _“David, are you crying?”_

“No, no.” David pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes shut. He sniffed. “I’m fine. Just, uh- I’m just tired.”

 _“Why are you lying to me?”_ She sounded offended.

David squeezed his eyes tighter, unable to stop the escape the teardrops from spilling. He was hunched over, the water from the bath rushing away in the background as white noise. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Gwen didn’t answer a few more moments. _“Do you need me to come?”_

“No,” he said, firmer than he meant to. He forced a gentler tone. “I mean, no. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

The static of Gwen’s silence felt deafening.

David sniffed again. He wiped his eyes.

_“I’m really worried now.”_

“I’m s-”

 _“Stop_ ,” snapped Gwen. She went soft again. _“Stop that.”_

The door to the bathroom began to creak open and David stiffened up.

“David,” came Max’s voice, peeking around the door blearily, “I need to pee.”

_“Is that the kid?”_

David wiped roughly at his eyes. He plastered on a smile for Max. “Sure, buddy. The bath’s about ready now, too.”

Max watched him with a furrowed brow, leant up against the door frame. “Who are you talking to?”

 _“Bath? David,"_ Gwen sounded irate again, _“is that him?”_

“…Yes,” answered David.

“You’re not answering the fucking question!” slurred Max with a confused scowl.

Gwen, simultaneously, exploded. _“He’s at your apartment?! You’re keeping a minor at your apartment?! Are you insane?! How fucking stupid could you get! This is bad, David. Real, real, real bad. I’m pretty sure this counts as kidnapping. You can’t keep some kid at your place like a stray dog!-”_

“David! You better not be calling the police!” warned Max, as if he could do anything to stop it if David was.

“I’m not,” promised David. He ran a hand through his quiff, moving the phone to his shoulder to explain. “I’m talking to my friend, Gwen. From the park.”

When David brought the phone back, he heard, _“Not what? I can hear him, dipshit! I know he’s-”_

The yelling was getting too much. David hung up before the building stress escalated into a panic attack. “Sorry, Gwen,” he mumbled as he turned off his phone.

Max stared.

David felt as if he owed an explanation. “She was just calling to-”

“Don’t care. Still need to pee.”

“Alrighty.” David could feel a headache coming on. He turned off the bath taps, running a hand through to check the water was tempered correctly. “When you’ve finished going to the bathroom, pass me your clothes through the door and I’ll put them in the wash whilst you get yourself clean.” He showed Max the hooks on the back of the door. “This is where the towels are.”

Max just looked impatient.

David left, dragging out the washing basket and closing the door behind him. He leaned against the wall and waited for Max to be finished going to the bathroom. He kept his eyes open, which was becoming more of a struggle with each passing second.

The toilet flushed, and child pulled the door open a quarter, a fistful of his clothes in his grip.

David gently took them from him.

“David?” Max asked, his dark hand still there through the gap in the door.

David moved Max’s bundle of clothes under his arm. “Yes, Max?”

Max went silent. He retracted back the hand, mumbling a, “nothing.”

David stayed patient. “Okay-dokay. Just let me know if you change your mind.”

He dropped Max’s clothes into the basket with the rest of his washing and picked it up. David carried it to the kitchen, taking the time to turn out Max’s pockets in case there was anything inside water might ruin, placing the contents onto the countertop. There were a few gum wrappers, a button, and lastly - worryingly - a lighter.

David hid the lighter in his spice rack. He hoped that didn’t mean what he thought it might. That would have to be a conversation for another time. He went to fetch Max’s hoodie and threw it in the washer with the rest, setting it off.

He began to ease into a kitchen chair, his ass just about touching it before there was a bang and a shatter from the hall.

The sudden noise re-awoke David in an instant.

He sprinted through the apartment in big, long strides, throwing open the bathroom door.

“Max, are you okay!?” he exclaimed.

Max was naked and wide eyed, David’s porcelain soap dispenser a shattered mess at his feet.

He must have knocked it off when trying to steady himself against the sink.

David put a hand to his chest, relaxing against the door frame. “Oh, thank God. You’re not hurt.”

“But I broke it,” pointed out Max, becoming distressed. He wasn’t even making an attempt at covering himself, both hands going to his hair.

“It doesn’t matter.” David was quick to put things into perspective. He squatted down, dragging the broken pieces towards himself, away from Max’s bare feet. “This was a really bad idea,” he thought aloud. “I’m going to help you, okay? Otherwise you’re going to slip.” _And drown_ , he finished internally.

Max nodded at first but then seemed to finally register he was naked, a flush filling his cheeks as his hands scrambled to cover himself. He scowled at David. “What are you doing, _you pervert_?! Get out!”

At his wits’ end, David rolled his eyes to the high heavens. “For goodness’ sake, Max.” He grabbed for a towel, holding it out for Max so he could cover himself. “You’re either going to let me help you or you’re going to bed. After everything that’s happened, you really still think I’m a pedophile?”

David sounded hurt.

Max snatched the towel, pressing it to his body.

He glared. And glared. And glared. “…No.”

“Then I would appreciate it if you’d stop accusing me of it,” scolded David. “If someone hears you, I’m going to get in a lot of trouble and you’re not going to be able to see me again. Is that what you want?”

Max had the decency to look guilty. He stared at his feet. “…No.”

“Okay.” David took a deep breath in and out. He brought back his gentle smile. “Now that’s all out the way and done with. What would you like? Bath or bed?”

Max frowned, not meeting David’s eye. “…Bath.”

“Come on, then.” David held out a hand.

Max took it, cheeks hot. David kept the towel in place as he helped Max over the edge, making a show of averting his gaze. Max relaxed once covered up by the heavy suds of the bubbles.

“Don’t get your nose wet,” said David. “Just hold tight whilst I clean this up.”

David heard Max mumble something that ended with a, “can’t tell me what to do,” but pretended he didn’t.

Shards swept away into the trash can, he grabbed a plastic cup from the medicine cabinet to scoop up water.

David took his place on his knees by the side of tub. “Alrighty,” he began, drained but fighting it fiercely. He wet Max’s chest and back with the cup, glad to see he was free from scars, using his hand to shield Max’s face from the cascading bathwater as he wet his hair, too.

David watched as the dirt and grime slid out of it, trying not to wrinkle his nose.

“That’s nice,” slurred Max, “like a waterfall.”

“A waterfall, huh?” David smiled, taken in surprise by the insight.

He tipped a few more cupfuls of water down Max’s back and Max hummed. He hooked his arms under his legs, hugging them toward himself and leaning against his knees as they peeked out from under the bubbles.

Max’s contentment helped relieve David’s own stress. He took a chance and stroked a big palm over the protruding bumps of Max’s spine.

Max seemed to like it and made another soft, pleased noise at the contact. David rubbed a few more times, letting the child soak in the kind touch. He withdrew the hand to reach for the rag.

“Don’t stop,” commanded Max. “I didn’t say you could stop. Who do you think you are?”

“I’m just grabbing a facecloth,” explained David.

Max grumbled.

David felt better now things were calm again. He smiled affectionately.

Soaking the cloth, David added a little soap. A few swipes over Max’s chest and it came back brown with grime. David rinsed it out in the sink to try and avoid mucking the bath water too much. Max was complacent.

David worked gently around Max’s splint when it came to his face, sticking to cleaning above Max’s waist. As much as David wanted all of him clean, it didn’t seem like a good idea to be scrubbing his legs and clipping his toenails whilst Max was so out of it, no matter David’s intent.

“Would you like to clean your bottom half for me, bud?” he requested of Max once finished, holding out a new cloth.

Max’s gaze re-focused and he sighed in annoyance. He took it and did as David said, a lot less thorough, passing it back when he deemed he was finished.

It would have to do.

David wrung the cloth out in the sink like the other two, leaving them all there for the time being.

He returned to the edge of the bath. “Would you like me to sort out your hair? It’s a little matted.” David brushed gentle fingertips over the ends of Max’s wet curls.

Max mumbled an affirmation, still hunched over.

David reached for his conditioner, layering a few dollops on top of Max’s head and working the substance through to his scalp. Max stayed silent and still, allowing David to massage his hair without complaint. His droopy gaze stayed forward.

“I’m going to brush it now, okay?”

“Mm,” responded Max unintelligibly.

David brought the teeth of the comb to the first curl. “You’ll tell me if I’m being too rough, won’t you?”

“Yes, David!” came the impatient reply. He grumbled something incoherent.

David smiled and set to work. It wasn’t as gruelling as David had worried, the conditioner helping the comb ease through the hair. A lot of what David had thought were matts turned out to be just be heavy tangles.

So, Max _had_ been having his hair brushed at some point in the past. Unless it had been Max himself.

More questions, no answers. It was infuriating.

Hair now brushed and shampooed, David didn’t think the bath water looked like it would do a very good job of washing anything anymore from the colour it was. He unplugged the bath, Max looking to David questioningly.

“Please stay there a moment,” David asked of him. “I’m gonna use the shower to rinse you off, okay?”

Max sighed. “Okay,” he agreed begrudgingly.

David unhooked the shower head and started it.

Now Max wasn’t as wound up about being bare in front of David, he used the opportunity to sneak a look for any further indication of abuse he’d missed. He was relieved to find none, rinsing out Max’s hair and over his body. He shut off the shower when he was done.

David fetched a towel and helped Max stand. He wrapped him up, lifting Max, and when he received no complaints, carried him to his bedroom. He set the boy back onto his feet.

“You get yourself dry and I’ll help you get dressed,” instructed David.

Max rubbed himself down half-heartedly. David hopelessly wanted to help him, but kept his distance, waiting with restraint for Max to finish.

“Done,” decided Max, visibly too tired to bother any further.

David stepped forward with the pair of pants. “Step into these, please,” he said, helping Max into Nerris’ pyjama bottoms and feeling less intrusive once he was covered up.

Max rubbed at an eye.

“How about a sit down?”

Max dropped on the edge of David’s bed.

David’s retrieved the towel from the floor and did a much better job drying off Max’s hair. He swiped up the water droplets off Max’s shoulders and back. He fetched the top. “Arms up, please. So I can get you into this.”

“Where’s my hoodie?” demanded Max, lifting up his arms anyway.

“In the wash, remember? I did that before your bath. It was covered in blood,” _and sweat_ , David tacked on internally as he soothed Max. He popped Max’s arms through the pyjama shirt, buttoning up the front with nimble fingers. The fabric stuck a little to the boy’s damp skin like the pants had.

“I need it,” whined Max. “It feels safe.”

David took a breath. He felt the tell-tales of tears, another lump forming in his throat, his chest swelled with mixed emotions at Max’s attachment to the old jacket. “You’ll get it back, bud, don’t you worry. It’s just getting clean in the washing machine. Okay?”

“ _Okay_ ,” agreed Max with a huff, even managing to fit in an eyeroll and a brief glare.

David couldn’t fathom how he’d ever found that expression menacing. He cracked a fond smile Max’s way.

“What are you smiling about?” Max’s glare turned colder. “Just you wait until I take over the world. See if you’re laughing- you’re laughing _then_ , you big dumb-dumb.”

David used the opportunity to tilt away to try and hide a snicker, which thankfully went unnoticed on Max’s end. The little boy swatted David’s side to garner back his attention. “Hey, I’m talking to you, umbrella man!”

David hummed an acknowledgement, briefly touching Max’s shoulder. “How about you go to bed, Max?” David pulled back the corner of his covers. “You must be tired.”

Max scowled with defiance that time. “I’m not tired.”

“You’re not?”

“ _No,”_ said Mad sternly.

David smiled in fatigued amusement. “Okay. Shall we go back to the sofa, then?”

Max nodded.

David held out his hand again and Max took it without a hint of hesitation. David collected up his duvet with his free limb and hung it over his shoulder, carrying it with them as he had a suspicion they were going to wipe out as soon as they made it to the living room.

Getting Max settled, David went around the apartment flicking off the lights, bar the lamp on his side table. The second David re-joined Max on the sofa, the smaller slumped forward awkwardly so his forehead was against David’s outer thigh.

“Everything okay?” pried David, resting his hand against the back of Max’s neck.

“Hair,” was all Max said.

David let out a little laugh. “You liked when I brushed it?”

Max didn’t reply. He huffed loudly and nodded once.

David raised his eyebrows before he smiled again. “There’s no need to be embarrassed by that, Max,” he said gently. “Lots of people like their hair being touched.”

“…Keep brushing,” he instructed.

“It’s all brushed,” responded David, “but I can stroke it, if you’d like.”

Max made a groan of irritation, but he stayed put. “ _Fine_ ,” he snapped like he was doing David a favour.

Fondness ignited tenderness, and David did as Max wanted. He spread out his fingers against the back of Max’s neck, threading them across to his hairline, the thick locks dampening his palm. He gently scratched Max’s scalp on the way back, thinking his skin must be relieved to breathe for once after being suffocated for so long.

Max was silent, so David kept going. He shifted back and tilted up his long legs so he could rest his feet against the edge of his coffee table. It allowed David to tip Max closer into him, and Max reciprocated, curling up and pressing his forehead against David’s stomach. David smiled sadly. Max was so visibly touch-starved it ached his chest, the little boy much too proud to admit it.

At least David would be able to comfort him now, if only for a short while. They rested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> David will get his comfort, too. I promise.
> 
> Namatse.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New revelations create new conflicts. After David makes a hard decision, Max and David's dynamic changes forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ty kia.
> 
> sure has been a wait huh? turns out moving house & finding employment takes up a shitload of time.
> 
> my beta asked that I iterate the use of the term 'retard' in this chapter is purely because it's Max's POV. I don't, and never will, use the term outside of artistic expression.
> 
> tyvm for your patience. enjoy.

Max awoke reaching for Mr Honeynuts, but was puzzled when his hand instead met a couch cushion. His sleep-addled mind processed he was somewhere unfamiliar, stumped by the heaviness of the duvet on top of his body, the sheets by his nose smelling fresh.

He lay still a few moments. This wasn’t home.

He sat up. A bleary peer with half-open eyelids gave him the answers he needed; no television, paintings of woodlands and landscapes on the walls, a glass coffee table with wooden coasters, a bookshelf overflowing with tattered paperbacks and potted plants.

He’d been correct. This wasn’t home. It was David’s living room.

Max lifted a hand to rub his eye, lazy fingers knocking into the splint holding his nose in place. He hissed in pain, flinching away from his own hand and squeezing his eyes tight. “Fuck!”

Gingerly, Max brought a cautious hand back to his nose. He sloped the tips of his fingers down the bruised flesh, bottom lip making a little wobble as he grazed over a particularly sensitive area. He frowned.

What was he doing here?

As Max concentrated, memories began to sieve through his brain of the day before.

He recalled his mother stood in the doorway, sobbing and begging Daniel to stop as he smashed Max’s face against the fridge door. He remembered biting Daniel’s hand until it gushed blood, running as fast as his legs could carry him. He’d been outside David’s apartment building before he could even process his own actions, more frightened than he’d been in a long time. He remembered sitting beside David at the back of a bus, knees pressed firm against his thigh, finally comforted and safe. He recalled the hospital room, its nurse, her needle. Max touched his cheek, recalling how it felt cradled against David’s side as he guided him down the corridor.

“Jesus Christ,” groaned Max, cringing in embarrassment. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets.

His mind supplied more excerpts. Of course, it got worse.

The blue tiles of David’s bathroom. Warm water. David brushing his hair, _bathing_ him like he was a toddler, giving him those ridiculous pyjamas. Max remembered falling asleep curled up on top of David’s lap and let out another frustrated groan. His cheeks heated. How horrific. He was ashamed of himself, disgusted, hand brushing down against his front, the texture of the shirt much too soft to be anything Max owned.

Max looked down at himself. Oh God, he was still wearing them. Stupid kid pyjamas, dumb cartoon dragons printed all over, breathing fire and snorting smoke.

He wanted to die. He was so humiliated, it was like being caught in quicksand.

_David,_ Max’s mind offered him to combat the feeling.

That was right. This was all David’s fault. David had done this to him. David knew how independent Max was, how much he despised being babied. He must have known from all the times Max pulled away when David tried to touch him.

He’d taken advantage of Max’s moment of weakness.

Max grit his teeth and made a noise of anger this time. How dare he _ridicule_ him like this. Max would have never allowed it without the drugs and David _knew that._

He untangled himself and hopped up off the sofa, hands forming fists. He stormed with purpose. First, he tried the kitchen (empty) and then down the hall to where he’d learned David’s bedroom was the night he’d spent at the apartment last week.

His mind helpfully supplied the memory of David helping him get changed on the edge of his bed, and Max’s face burned fiercer, fuelling him.

The door to David’s room was already halfway open, so Max shoved it the rest of the way. He took up the middle of the door frame, seething, ready to demand David take him home _right that instant_ before his stomach lurched at what he was met with.

Max’s rage and the humiliation dissipated, the sight taking his breath away.

David’s scars.

“Well, good morning, Max,” chippered David as if everything was okay. As if Max hadn’t just walked in on him getting changed. As if it was normal his back was so horribly disfigured with marks. “I wasn’t expecting to see you up so early!”

He’d turned quickly upon Max’s entrance, shirt pulled down with quick hands, but Max had still seen them. He’d seen everything.

“Who did that?” Max had meant for the question to come out assertive, but it left his chapped lips just a whisper.

“Did what?” replied David, smiling. He was either retardedly oblivious or in denial of what Max was asking him.

Max felt his stomach begin to churn. Is this how David felt when he’d seen his broken nose? He didn’t like it. It didn’t feel right. He wanted the feeling to go away.

“You know what I’m talking about,” snapped Max, finding his voice again, angry, impulsive words out of his mouth before he could stop and think, as they always did. Because that’s what Max was; angry and impulsive, using his anger as shield to stop himself from feeling anything else.

“I’m sorry, Max,” replied David smoothly, “I really don’t. How about we have some breakfast? If-”

Max interrupted with gritted teeth. “I’m not hungry.”

David didn’t miss a beat. “Now, now, Max. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day! Did you know-”

It pissed Max off. “Shut up.”

“Okay-dokay…” David quietened.

“Do you really think I’m going to let you pretend I didn’t just see what a shit show your back is?”

Max watched as David’s smile wavered and his nervous hands came together. “I really think breakfast would be a better idea,” he deflected.

“I just told you I’m not hungry,” Max pointed out in irritation. “Are you gonna answer my damn question or not?”

David blinked. He seemed conflicted, struggling.

Max went in for the jugular. “I guess if you’re not gonna tell me then I might as well fuck off back home then, huh?” He moved to turn.

“Max, no,” protested David. His tone was filled with an immediate desperation, borderline panic. “Don’t go.”

Max was briefly taken aback by the reaction, but recovered. “Jeez, chill out, David. I’m gonna have to go back anyway. If you’re not gonna tell me, why does it matter so much if it’s now rather than later?”

David looked about for inspiration. He nibbled his bottom lip, the edge of his mattress dipping as he eased into sitting down. “It’s best you stay here for now.”

“It’s best you tell me what the fuck is going on before I hightail out of this joint.”

Frustration bubbled under David’s patient exterior. “You can’t blackmail me like this, Max.”

“Yes, I can,” argued Max. “I just did.”

David looked away.

Max was winning. The sensation pushed away his original discomfort at the situation.

David hesitated. He was visibly uneasy, out of his depth.

Max gave a smirk and waited it out.

“It was a long time ago,” broached David, looking back to Max, “and it’s not something for you to be worried about.”

“So you get to poke around my business but I’m not allowed do the same to yours?”

David winced. “I didn’t say that.”

“Well, you’re sure acting like it.” Max crossed his arms. He didn’t make an attempt to enter David’s bedroom yet, still in the doorway.

David rubbed a hand against the back of his neck, not meeting Max’s gaze. “…I just don’t want to distress you any further than you already are.”

Max felt defensiveness flush through his veins. “Who the fuck said anything about me being-” Max brought up two hands to create quotation marks- “‘distressed’?”

David looked back, eyes softening into that disgusting expression of pity that made Max’s blood boil hotter. He opened his mouth to reply, but Max didn’t allow him to speak.

“That is such bullshit, David. If you didn’t want me to be ‘ _distressed_ ’,” Max spat the word as if it were a curse, “then you wouldn’t have taken me to that damn hospital!”

David’s eyebrows twisted. “Of course, I took you to a hospital. You were injured. You needed medical attention.”

Max scoffed stubbornly. “It was just a broken nose. I could have set it myself.”

David gave a disapproving look. “No, you couldn’t. A broken nose is not something trivial, Max.”

“Sure it is. People get ‘em all the time.”

“No, they don’t.”

“Whatever. Just give me my clothes and take me home.”

David’s expression merged into something unreadable. “No.”

Max’s hackles came up in response. “Why not? They’re my damn clothes.”

David ran a hand through his red hair. “You can have your clothes once they’re dry, but I’m not taking you home yet.”

“Is this a fucking joke? I can go home whenever the fuck I want!”

David shook his head again. “I’m not letting you go back to someone who hurt you. I can’t sit back and watch it happen anymore. I can’t. I’m not going to leave you helpless like everyone did to me.”

The statement settled between them a moment.

“So that’s what this is?” questioned Max, turning venomous. “What I am to you? Some kinda- kind of make up for the shitty childhood you had?”

“No, Max,” answered David with urgency. “Just because we’re the same doesn’t mean that I’m using you for… redemption - or whatever this is you’ve gotten into your head now.”

Max jumped forward. “We are not the same,” he hissed. “I would never be as spineless or _pathetic_ as you are.”

David didn’t have a reply, so he stormed closer. He got in David’s face, David jerking up and away from him. A heady kind of pleasure unfolded in Max’s stomach at the power he wielded over the man in that moment. Max never had power over adults.

“You think I’d take a beating lying down?” he steamrolled on, fists re-clenched. “Fuck. That. You know what I did when that psycho-motherfucker tried to kill me? I fought him. I wasn’t gonna let him do whatever the fuck he wanted to me. But you did, didn’t you, David? I bet you just laid down and took it like the _bitch_ you are-”

David’s gormless shock shifted. Pain gleamed in his eyes before they filled with tears, pooling up in the corners. He was silent as they spilled, as if he couldn’t quite comprehend what Max had just been capable of.

Max kiltered off.

His intention hadn’t been to make David cry. He’d just been frustrated. Confused. Scared. Upset. Humiliated. Angry. Too many emotions, not enough maturity to understand them or deal with them constructively.

David wiped away the tears with the same silence they came with. He sniffed and looked up to the ceiling, letting out a long exhale.

Max began to back away, retreating towards the door. David was surely going to snap this time.

David sniffed again, eyes still on the ceiling. He put a hand to his own chest as he took a few, even breaths.

Max had shuffled back to the wall beside the door. His hands rested against the coolness of the wallpaper.

“That was a very unkind thing to say,” the man finally said, steady.

Max knew that, but still grumbled, “It was a stupid thing to cry over…”

David shook his head out of the corner of Max’s eye. “You don’t get to decide what does and doesn’t make others upset,” he scolded.

“Oh yeah? And who gave you that line? Your therapist?”

David didn’t back down that time. “Yes, actually,” he said, and Max felt his gut drop. “You need one after the kind of childhood I had.”

Max scowled, eyes going to the ground.

They stayed in silence a minute or so.

Shame came over Max like a cloud. He’d gone too far again and now he was stuck with the consequences, too proud to apologise.

“You know, Max,” said David, “sometimes you say and do the cruellest things, and my heart just breaks when I think of all the people who must have created and fed this hatred inside you.”

Max didn’t like how broken he sounded.

“For me it was my dad,” continued David. “He was the one who fed mine. He thought corporal punishment was the way to raise a man. It’s never so bad at first, but then my mom died, and then my brother, and his drinking spiralled out of control. I think you can imagine what a disappointment of a son I was to him when I hit my teens. As you said, someone so spineless and pathetic.”

Max felt sick

“Does that make you feel better, Max? Like you’ve won? Now that you’re ‘in my business’? Is this what you wanted to hear?”

Max physically couldn’t look up.

“Maybe we’re not the same. Maybe you’re stronger than me. Maybe no one has taken a belt or a poker to your skin,” David’s voice was heavy with emotion, “and believe me,” he put a hand to his chest, “I am so thankful for that, Max. I never want anything close to what I have experienced to happen to you.” He paused for breath. “But it already has. What that man did to you- attempted to do to you- that frightens me more than a thousand beatings from my father.”

Max willed the blurring of his gaze to cease. “Why?” he choked out.

“Oh my goodness. _Max_ ,” David sounded in disbelief. The bedframe creaked as he stood. He came close and dropped to his knees in front of Max, placing gentle hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Look at me.”

Max couldn’t.

“Please.”

Shivering, Max complied.

David brushed away tears from Max’s eyes that Max hadn’t even registered were spilling. “Listen to me, okay? It frightens me because I care about you. _You_ , Max. I’m not chasing after closure, or redemption or anything else cathartic or selfish. All I want is for you to be safe and happy.”

Max blubbered before he could catch it. He wiped his nose on his sleeve and it came back wet. “Stop it, dumbass,” he pleaded.

David brushed another teardrop off course. “I will,” he promised, “but first I need you to understand me. Everything I’ve done, even if it doesn’t make sense right now, is for you. Okay?”

Max nodded his head reluctantly, just wanting the new emotions swirling around inside to go away. To stop wanting to lean into David’s arms. To stop wanting to not go home. To stop wanting David to be more than just a stranger to him. “Okay.”

“Okay,” breathed David. He sniffed himself and dabbed at his own red-rimmed eyes with the back of his hand. “Alright-y. Good. That’s that sorted.”

Max watched as David stood back up, his goliath size nothing short of comforting now Max had adjusted to it.

Ceasing the moment, Max dashed forward quickly to give him a fleeting hug, pulling back before it could really begin. “I’m-sorry,” he whispered altogether, part of himself hoping it was too fast for David to catch it.

He looked up and found David staring down at him.

“That didn’t happen,” Max told him.

David just cracked a tired smile. He checked his watch, and his newfound peace shifted back into something nervous. “If you don’t want anything to eat, then how about some tea instead?”

Max sniffed, not reading too much into it. “Whatever. Just get me out of these dumb-ass pyjamas.”

-

After David had explained he’d hung Max’s clothes over the railing of the balcony in the early morning and they probably wouldn’t be completely dry for another hour or so, Max declared he’d wear them anyway. David, annoyingly and predictably, tried to convince Max out of it, but Max was back in his hoodie and jeans at the end of another ten-minute bicker.

Max ignored the discomfort of damp as David filled up his kettle and set it on the stove.

He had been hoping for pancakes again but wasn’t offered (he must have really upset David) instead given the choice of toast or cereal.

Max opted for the cereal, which, after he saw the dismal selection available, brought about a long bitch about how David didn’t have anything sugary enough for his liking. He was appeased by David bringing out a tin of sugar from his cupboard to sprinkle on top, without so much as a peep about how bad for his body it was.

Max realised about halfway through his bowl David wasn’t eating anything. He just sipped occasionally from the cup he’d dropped a teabag inside and filled with hot water.

“Thought breakfast was the most important meal of the day,” quipped Max, raising a brow.

David wasn’t in the mood for banter. “I already ate,” he said, dismissive.

“You’re a shit liar.” Max scooped up another spoonful of sugar-loaded bran flakes.

David hummed in acknowledgment and looked out the window. It was uncharacteristic, but not too alarming after what had transpired earlier.

There was a knocking at the door.

Max glanced back to the hall, about to continue eating before he saw David had set down his mug. The elder got to his feet stiffly. Something felt wrong in David’s expression.

“What?” asked Max.

David didn’t reply, collecting his keys from their hook by his calendar.

“Who is it?” demanded Max.

He was ignored.

Max jumped up, following David. “Hey!”

He was ignored again.

Max grabbed David’s wrist, digging his heels into the lino to stop him. “Who is it? Who is it?”

Their gazes met. David looked positively nauseous.

“David…” Max’s eyes widened. He released him. “What’s going on?”

Silence.

“Tell me what the fuck is happening. Now-”

“I’m sorry, Max.” David looked deflated. “I hope one day you understand.”

Max felt his heart thud fast. He had never felt so unsettled in the man’s presence before. “What does that mean?”

David moved past him to the hall, toward the door.

“David!” called Max after him. He followed, reaching David again as he turned the key in the lock.

The man’s hand was shaking, causing the keys to jingle.

“David!” Max felt frantic. “What does that mean? Who is it? What’s going on?”

The door was opened before Max could ask any more questions.

“Good morning,” the woman behind it greeted, interrupting. Her expression was friendly, unlike the police officer who stood beside her. She continued, “Is this David ████ ’s residence?”

“Yes,” replied David, not sounding like himself.

“And you are Mr ████ ?”

“Yes,” replied David again in the same stressed tone.

“Brilliant,” said the woman, relaxed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She offered out a hand, and Max watched David shake it.

Max looked back to the woman. He was intelligent enough to figure out in a few seconds what was going on from the official name badge on her chest, her smart-casual attire and shoulder bag, the policeman next to her.

His stomach dropped.

“And you must be Max,” the woman turned her attention away from David, offering a handshake to Max, too. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, too. Mr ████ here tells us you’re having a little trouble at home?”

Max was startled. His gaze flickered again from the social worker’s outstretched palm, to the police officer, to David, his head hung in guilt.

He’d been the one person Max had trusted _, the one person_ , and he’d sold him out. Just like that. Done the one thing Max had asked him not to. The one important thing.

Max would have rather lived with David’s ridiculous babying for his entire lifetime than be subjected to this reality. He would have taken a hundred baths, a thousand ruffles to his hair, a million trips to hospitals and infirmaries. Maybe it wouldn’t have even been so bad. In retrospect, nothing ever was with David by his side.

Tears burned behind his eyes. The betrayal hurt so badly it tore up Max’s insides, bleeding out inside him like gasoline.

Gritting his teeth, Max took in a big inhale.

He ignited his rage.

**Author's Note:**

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> 
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